


What is and what should never be...

by JaggedwingedWolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/F, F/M, Ignores canon past 3B except for some minor things, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Other, Other Supernatural Creatures - Freeform, PTSD, Pack Bonding, Panic Attacks, Prescription Drug Abuse, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Therapy, Training and combat, Trust issues to the nth power, also removes bits from 3B that don't make sense, did I mention slow-build?, discussion of sexual and emotional abuse, eventually full-shift werewolves, like REALISTICALLY slow as hell because they're damaged as fuck, mental illness and disorders, other werewolf packs, slow-build, what will the Nemeton draw in next?, where the fuck did Deucalion go?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:43:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaggedwingedWolf/pseuds/JaggedwingedWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened to the pack after losing Allison?  After losing Aiden?  Where did all of this leave Chris and Issac?  What was Stiles thinking or Scott or Derek?  What does Kira think of her place in the pack now?  How did the parents make sense of it all?  Where was the grieving and the funeral?  With so much pain...how could anything ever be the same?</p><p>My thoughts about the end of Season 3 and how I wish the rest of the series plays out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It all happened so fast...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after, "Insatiable." Filling in the details, showing the characters' emotions, and trying to make sense of it all.
> 
> For future reference a ---- indicates a change in P.O.V. while *** simply indicates the progression of time within the same person's P.O.V.
> 
> YES, your eyes are not deceiving you. I used the canon dialogue for these chapters, but filled in the holes around them with my own.
> 
> Recommended mood music: "A Way of Life" by Hans Zimmer (The Last Samurai) and "Time" by Hans Zimmer (Inception)

Stiles doesn't know when he woke up...

Deep underneath Oak Creek, inside a cement tunnel, they had found their friend.  Lydia had panicked, telling him and Scott that they shouldn't have come, and wanting to know who else was with them.  The boys had exchanged a worried look before Scott was pounding off down the tunnel, with Lydia close behind him.  Stiles had tried to keep up, but his body felt heavier with every step.  The aching pain he'd felt since the Nogitsune split from him was turning into a throb that intensified with every beat of his heart.  No matter how hard he tried to push himself forward, to lift each foot and set it down, his body had given up. 

"Lydia...I can't..."

Spent from fear and pain, he collapsed and passed out.  He vaguely remembers Lydia beginning to scream, but his mind went blank before he could ask why. 

When he groggily opens his eyes, Lydia is slumped over him and crying.  Everything seems muffled and far away.  Lydia's sobs sound like they're coming from the bottom of a well, even though she's crouched across his lap.  It takes several minutes for his vision to clear enough to identify where he is; still halfway down the tunnel.  He feels unfathomably cold and fragile, like the slightest fall would shatter his bones.  A breeze races in, lifting the sweaty strands of his hair and sending Lydia's waves tumbling around her face.

"Lydia..." he croaks, his tongue sticky and dry in his mouth. "What happened...where is everyone?"

Lydia manages to right herself, sitting back on the damp ground and swiping at her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"Al...Al...Allison's..." she stammers, body still wracked with sobs.

Stiles places a hand gingerly on her shoulder, peering at her in confusion.  _Allison...what about Allison?_

Without prompting her for more, Stiles levers himself to his feet, bracing a hand on the concave wall for support.  Watching him try to stand, Lydia swiftly grabs him around the waist and does her best to steady him.  Stiles holds her across the shoulders, feeling her shake and sniffle.  Walking seems like an insurmountable task.  Each of his feet must weigh at least a hundred pounds and his lungs don't want to expand properly.  Lydia paces slowly beside him, bracing him whenever he begins to stumble. 

The journey to the mouth of the tunnel feels like it takes years, the rough cement scraping across his palm as he pulls himself forward.  Lydia is slowing too; her sobbing replaced by short, uneven breaths.  Stiles feels the tension in the air; the overwhelming sense of anxiety and fear.  Something in the back of his mind tells him that he doesn't want to see what's outside the tunnel, that he should just stop now and stay hidden here forever.  On the other hand, he has a desperate need to keep going and discover what's causing the sick dread in his heart...what's making Lydia sob.

***

They make it into the open air and see the Oni have disappeared, remnants of black smoke spinning in the wind.  Stiles has a brief moment of hope, thinking that they must have done something right.  Why else would the Oni have left?  It only takes a moment to understand why he's so very, very wrong.  Lydia is the first to see them and she collapses to her knees with a choked sound, dropping her hand from his waist to cover her mouth. 

Stiles sways and grabs the chain link fence, following her gaze to Scott crouched on the ground...with Allison in his arms.  There's blood slowly dripping from her side, forming a puddle on the blacktop.  Scott's hands are covered in red as he holds Allison to his chest and whimpers.  Stiles stares hard, refusing to blink, thinking this must be another nightmare...a hallucination. 

He looks down at his free hand and counts his fingers: _1...2...3...4...5._   He swivels his gaze to the hand clutching the fence and counts again: _1...2...3...4...5._

_NO..._

Allison isn't moving and Stiles doesn't need werewolf hearing to know that Scott is crying.  The cold air burns his eyes and he feels moisture begin to trickle down his cheeks.  That's when Stiles realizes that **he's** crying.  He wants to yell, to run to Scott's side and help him carry Allison out of here...but he knows it's pointless.  He understands why Lydia was screaming.  Their banshee was foretelling a death.  Lydia was shouting her despair as her best friend died.  Stiles can't breathe.  He feels the panic well up in his chest and try to suffocate him.  _Not now!_ He pleads with his body. _It's her...it's her they need to take care of...not me...not me!_

He tries to slow his breathing, to count his inhales and exhales as the ground switches places with the sky.  He's going to throw up.  A horrible retch escapes him, and his mouth fills with bile.  Stiles gags and spits it on the ground, feeling the acidic burn in his throat.  His breathing is shallow; chest expanding and contracting rapidly as he tries to drag the cold air into his lungs.  He falls forward, catching himself on his hands.  Stiles lifts his head again and looks for the other members of his pack.  Isaac is rocking back and forth on the ground, making quiet whining noises.  Kira stands by her mother, clutching her tightly and crying as Noshiko looks on in horror.  It's like the world has stopped spinning, and everything was thrown off balance.

It was supposed to be okay.  They were going to kill the nogitsune, even if it meant that he died too...it would be okay.  Just this morning he was hugging his dad.  They were hugging and it was really him, not the monster.  This wasn't supposed to happen.  They were going to be safe, it was all going to end.  His tears leave hot trails against his icy cheeks.  Every ounce of warmth is leaving his body; seeping out of his fingers and his eyes and his mouth.  He's not just cold, he's empty.  Allison is dead, and she's dead because of him.  He killed her.  He let the demon in, and then he let it escape and it murdered her.  The bit of him that's still connected to the nogitsune knows what it did, that it stole the Oni from Kira's mother and commanded them.  

This is his fault.  Stiles has seen wolfsbane wounds, his friends coughing up black ooze and hot blood pouring from torn flesh, but that's nothing compared to this.  This is a knife to the spine, followed by a punch in the jaw, and it's all...horribly...real.

* * *

It's not happening, it's not happening, it's not...

Allison is still in Scott's arms, her eyes un-moving and glassy.  He drops his head to her brow and breathes in her scent, one last time.  His tears mingle with hers, and he chokes as his breath seizes with pain.  He reaches up to slide her eyes closed and she looks like she's sleeping.  If it wasn't for the metallic stench of her blood, he could believe she was.  How many times had she fallen asleep in his arms, safe and content?  Now she'll never do that again.  She'll never do anything again.  He'll never watch her draw her bow; see her beauty and strength.  He'll never hear her laugh or scoff or cry.  He can feel the heat beginning to leave her body as blood continues to seep from her wound.  She told him that she loved him, had always loved him and always would.  How can he go on now?  She knew he was hers.  He'd told her all those months ago that he'd wait for her, forever.

_There's no such thing as fate._

_There's no such thing as werewolves._

Scott knows that Chris is here. The man's usually sharp, assured scent is masked by anger and despair.  Scott remembers what Allison said to him.  He's supposed to tell her dad something, but what?  What could have been so important that she'd waste her last breaths to plead with him about it?  He hears Chris' frantic steps, running to his daughter's side, and Scott feels his heart clench with anguish.  Chris never got to say goodbye.  The one member of his family he had left is gone, and he wasn't there to hold her or tell her that he loved her.  When Chris reaches them he kneels down and stares at Allison's face, as if he can't believe what he's seeing.  Scott looks up and Chris meets his eyes, the man's watery and bright.

They stare at each other for a long moment, Scott hiccuping slightly as his crying settles into blank grief.  Chris slowly reaches his arms out and Scott understands.  He shifts his grip on Allison's body, and carefully passes her to her father.  The former hunter is strung tight as a bow string, his entire body pulsing with grief, but he doesn't shed a tear.  In fact...he barely moves.  He clutches his daughter close, dropping his head to tuck it into the crook of her neck, finally letting out one strangled sob.  It's so fleeting that Scott wonders if he imagined it.  Immediately after, Chris raises his head and his expression is hard again.

"We have to talk...go gather up the others," he says.

Chris stands up slowly, holding his daughter to his chest and walking to her car which is parked just outside the gates.  Scott watches after him, wanting to plead for her back, to hold her again, but he keeps quiet.  Once Chris reaches the car, he opens the back door one-handed and gently lays Allison across the seats.  Scott didn't realize he was holding his breath, and a massive sigh gusts out of him.   _This is it.  We have to deal with the pain.  We have to keep going_.  Bracing himself against the asphalt, Scott rises and sweeps his gaze across the lot.  He sees Isaac shaking and whimpering on the ground not far from him, his arms clenched around his knees. 

It suddenly hits him that this is affecting all of the pack, not just him.  Allison is gone, and there is a hole in them all that will never be filled.  Scott could never figure out what Isaac and Allison were.  Allies?  Friends who occasionally kissed?  Lovers?  Neither of them ever defined it, and he never dared ask.  All he knows for sure is that Isaac is hurt, and deeply.  He walks up to his beta slowly, afraid he'll bolt if anyone comes near him.  He smells the blood on Isaac, dry and cloying as his wounds begin to close.

"Isaac..." he whispers. "Isaac, you have to get up."

The sandy-haired boy flinches at Scott's voice, then turns to look at him.  His eyes are a fiery gold, his mouth barely concealing his fangs.  Scott leans his face away slightly, not fearful of his beta, but sad for him.

"I know...I know you loved her too, Isaac," Scott says. "I'm sorry...you must really hate me right now...I...I didn't know she was...that she felt..." 

He trails off, suddenly too upset to say anything else.  Isaac's face softens, his fangs regressing back into human teeth and his eyes fade back into their regular pale blue.  He drops his head, submitting to his alpha and staggering to his feet.

"Let's end this..." is all Isaac says, moving to stand at Scott's shoulder and follow him toward Kira and her mother.

Kira stares at Scott, her eyes wide and scared, with tears drying on her cheeks.  Noshiko looks almost pitiful; somber and guilty.  Her posture is all caution as the wolves approach, the once powerful fox now alarmingly human.

"Scott...I'm so...I'm so sorry!" Kira cries, her voice shaking with fear, like they might attack her. "I was too preoccupied with the Oni, I should have helped her...I should've..."

Scott lays a hand on her neck, cupping her cheek gently and looking her in the eyes.

"Kira...it's not your fault..." he whispers, choking back the lump in his throat. 

Kira's face falls, crumpling into tears again and she raises her hand to cover his, closing her eyes as she cries silently.  Isaac hovers at Scott's back, shifting from foot to foot and keeping his gaze leveled at his shoes.  Noshiko holds her daughter around the waist, leaning her head against Kira's shoulder and shushing her quietly.

The wind slows and it's as if Scott's senses snap back into focus.  He remembers that he left Lydia and Stiles deep in the tunnel as he ran into the fight.  Dropping his hand from Kira's face, he spins around looking for his friends.  They're there, slumped next to each other by the perimeter fence.  Lydia is shaking with sobs and Stiles...Stiles looks like he's dying.  Scott's eyes widen and he runs to them, Issac dashing after him.  He skids to a stop and drops to his knees, grabbing Stiles' shoulders and tipping him back until he can see his friend's face.  Stiles has tears streaked across his cheeks and down his neck, and the remnants of saliva and bile on his chin.  Scott wants to reel away from the scents of sickness and pain, but this is Stiles, this is his brother and he can't look away.

"Stiles...buddy, talk to me...you still in there?"

Stiles shudders violently, his breathing labored and wet.  Scott muses absently that he sounded like that once, back before the bite when his asthma crippled him.

"Shh, Stiles...try to calm down...breathe slow, in and out."

Lydia takes a deep breath, sitting back on her heels and trying to look up, but she can't seem to do it.  Every time she manages to lift her head and look at Scott, her eyes well up anew and she has to cover her face to wipe them.  Scott frowns at her, his brows pinching together in a mixture of sadness and pity.  Allison was her best friend.  If he feels like this because of losing her, how much worse is it for Lydia?

It seems like it takes so much effort, but Stiles' breathing begins to even out.  His eyes regain focus and he looks at Scott with suffering etched into every muscle of his body. 

"Scotty...I can't believe...it's all my fault...it's not fair...she wasn't supposed to...I was supposed to..."

The words tumble from his mouth, like he can't choose the right thing to say.  Scott slides forward and hugs him gently, tucking his head over Stiles' shoulder.  Lydia hasn't said a word, but she seems to finally come back to the present, leaning her head on Scott's shoulder and wrapping an arm around Stiles' neck.  Isaac sinks to his knees and adds his own arms to the group hug, slinging one around Scott and the other around Stiles, hiding his face between his alpha's shoulder blades.  Stiles buries his face in Scott's neck, drawing short little breaths and Scott feels warm, salty tears dripping onto his shirt.  They stay clutched together, sharing comfort for several minutes, no one wanting to be the first one to let go.  Eventually, Stiles lifts his head from Scott and moves to stand, gently shaking the others off.  Scott and Lydia both jerk forward to grab him, but he holds his hands out and shakes his head.

"I'm going to walk on my own...I...I need to do it alone," Stiles says, lifting his shirt to wipe his face.  His eyes have lost their light, and his mouth is set in a tight line.

Isaac looks him over, seeming to evaluate him like he did earlier in the Jeep.  Scott knows what his beta is thinking.  Stiles looks even more deathly pale than before, the bruised purple bags under his eyes in stark contrast to his almost transparent skin.  He watches his friend warily, expecting him to fall at any moment, but Stiles is remarkably steady.  It's as if he's forcing his body to comply.  Isaac, Scott, and Lydia stand and follow him as he makes his way to Kira and her mother.  The haggard boy stops just in front of them, staring at Noshiko as if he's carefully thinking of what to say to her.

"So that was your last tail, right?" Stiles asks, and Noshiko looks stunned.

"How...how do you know about...?" she asks, looking at Stiles like he sprouted a second head.

"When you find out you're possessed by a demonic Japanese fox, you tend to look into the history a bit..."  Stiles' lips lift the tiniest bit, like he wants to smile, but he can't manage it.  "He was in my head for a long time, and I can feel it...could tell it was him...with Allison..."  Noshiko's face falls and she closes her eyes briefly, letting out a sigh.

"Yes, the Nogitsune stole my last tail...that is why he now holds power over the Oni."

"Fabulous..." Stiles says, his tone dry.  Scott would laugh if only his friend didn't look so miserable.

"I am so sorry...for all of you," Noshiko tells them. "I wanted to end it...I never meant for her to die."

It's like having the wind knocked out you, hearing someone finally say it.  They all wince and take a collective step back.  Kira looks stricken.  She didn't join them earlier, as if she wasn't welcome to share in their pain.

"I only knew Allison for a little while...but I really liked her...I'll miss her a lot...I...I hate this," Kira says, rubbing furiously at her eyes.

"You are the kitsune now, Kira," her mother tells her, suddenly determined and stoic again. "I am powerless...there is nothing else I can do, but teach you."

Kira drops her eyes to the ground.  Stiles looks at her sadly, lifting a hand like he wants to comfort her, but he stops and drops it to his side again.  His body begins to shudder and he wraps his arms around himself, like he might actually shake apart.  Scott steps up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and turning Stiles gently to look at him.  The boy's face is scrunched tightly in pain and his shivers only get worse.

"Stiles...we need to get you out of here...you haven't even eaten today..." Scott starts, but Stiles shakes his head.

"We have to end this, Scott.  There's no time to screw around."

"Taking care of you is not screwing around, Stiles!" Scott growls.  Isaac tenses at his tone and Lydia turns her head away.  Stiles still disagrees. 

"No, we end this first...then if I...then we worry about me." 

Stiles looks at Scott, not breaking eye contact.  It's not the first time Scott wishes he had some sway over Stiles, to use his wolf status to make him listen, but he knows it won't work.  Stiles is the most stubborn person in the entire pack, and once he makes up his mind there is no stopping him.

* * *

Chris saw the kids get up; saw them cling to each other and cry.  He stayed in the car, head lent over the steering wheel, his eyes shut.  It doesn't seem real.  His daughter is dead, her rapidly cooling body behind him in the car.  It's gruesome and awful and he wants to take it all back. 

Why didn't she listen to him?  He pleaded with her on the phone to wait for him, to not rush into battle without him there.  Had she known?  Had she expected this?  She'd told him earlier that she loved him, that she was proud of him and wanted him to know it.  Chris had kissed her forehead and looked at his daughter; his beautiful, strong girl and knew he'd made the right decision.  Quitting hunting had done wonders for them.  There was no more fearing for their lives every time Derek or Isaac or the twins came near them.  They'd allied themselves with the pack; with the wolves and the banshee, the kitsune and the human.  They were far stronger together than at odds.

Melissa had known for a long time, and the Sheriff finally did.  They were his friends now as well, other parents with whom he could talk and share his fears for their children.  What would they do now?  His family was gone.  Kate was a horrible person, but she was still his sister.  Victoria had been fierce and unyielding, willing to die rather than become "one of them."  She'd wanted death, and Chris had helped her achieve it.  He'd hated every second of it, wanting her to stay no matter what she was.  He couldn't let his daughter lose her mother...he couldn't lose his wife.  Why did he keep losing them?  What had he done wrong? 

Gerard hadn't been heard from in months, and frankly Chris didn't care.  He would never forgive his father for the things he'd done to these kids, the way he'd violated everything their family stood for.  Allison was all he had left, and that was okay.  He'd been happy, so unbelievably happy.  Allison was his joy; her courage and skill had turned her into the best "hunter" Chris had seen in his entire career.  She didn't share his love for firearms, but when she drew her bow...it was a thing of grace.  His chest tightens with a burning pain, and he has to grit his teeth to keep the tears inside.

The nogitsune would pay, for all it had done.  The demon had torn their little family apart.  It had stolen his daughter from him, and ruined the first sense of peace the pack had ever felt.  A small part of him seethes with rage at Noshiko for starting all of this.  Why had she been so foolish?  What made her think she could control an evil spirit, to make it do her bidding and leave everyone else alone?  He wants to be furious with her, but he can't.  He's been spurred on by revenge more than once in his life, and he's done some horrible things that he can never take back.  Grudges were unhealthy, and causing Noshiko pain wouldn't take his away. 

Chris inhales deeply, forcing the sadness aside and bringing their current problem into focus.  The nogitsune is gone and it has control of the Oni.  Wherever it went now is what they have to find out.  Steeling himself, he steps out of the car and closes the door behind him, walking over to where the others stand in a circle.

"We have to call the Sheriff..." he says, his voice calm and authoritative.

The kids all look at him like he just told them to shoot him.

"My daughter is dead," he continues. "I can't hide that, she won't be in school and no one will see her around town...they have to know she's gone."

Stiles gulps and looks at Chris with what can only be described as anguish.

"We need to make sure we have our story straight," he says, concocting their alibi in his head. "Scott, come with me."

The young wolf looks terrified and Chris wonders what Scott thinks of him at this moment. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," Chris tells him. "This wasn't your fault.  I told her...I told her to wait for me..."

***

They stop at the edge of the lot, partially hidden by the fence.  Separate from the group, Scott seems to cave in on himself and he leans against the chain-link, clutching it so hard his knuckles turn white.  They've gone over the plan, but Chris has to hear Scott say it; has to know he remembers.  He watches Scott and feels his own unshed tears rising back up.  His eyes burn and he turns away, biting down on his tongue to focus his pain elsewhere.  Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, he turns back to the boy.

"Scott, look at me," he says.  The boy ignores him, breathing hard and staring at his hands.

"Scott...look at me!"  He puts his hand on the young wolf's shoulder, trying to be comforting.  Scott finally turns to him, and Chris can see his own pain reflected the teenager's eyes.

"You have to remember, you called me first, okay?"  Scott stares, like he still can't believe they're doing this. "Say it. You called me first."

"I called you..." Scott mumbles.

"Not you!  Say 'Mr. Argent' or 'her dad.'"

"I called her dad first."

Chris nods, encouraging him. "What else?  What happened?"

"There were two of them..." he struggles, panting and sniffling. "They tried to steal our car...they...they wore masks, one of 'em had a knife..."

"You think," Chris warns him.  "Don't get specific, Scott.  You saw something sharp, and metallic.  You think it was a knife."  Every word of it hurts, but the officers would never understand what had really happened.  His daughter was dead under mysterious circumstances, and they didn't need to incriminate themselves any further.

Scott nods, flexing his hands on the fence and trying to calm his breathing. "What do you say next?  If you get confused, what do you always repeat?"

"It happened so fast..."

"That's right.  Now say it again," Chris says, but Scott can't seem to do it. "Scott! Say it again."

"How are you doing this?" The boy turns and stares at him, his eyes full of anger and pain.  The question throws him off and he freezes, drawing his hand slowly off of Scott's back.

"It's what we do," he says, forcing himself to believe the words. "It's what we do..."

Chris walks away, unable to look at Scott anymore without losing himself.  He heads back to the group.

***

He tells them the story they have to remember.  Everyone looks at him sadly and he hates it, hates that this is his life.  He's done this so many times, coming up with stories to hide the truth of the monsters that lurk in the dark.

"My dad won't buy it...he knows now," Stiles interjects.

"I'll tell your dad the truth...just not in front of the other officers."

Stiles nods and drops his eyes, suddenly unable to look at Chris anymore.  The ex-hunter hears Scott before he sees him, watches as he slips back in between Stiles and Lydia.

"I know this is going to be really hard for you, but I'll tell Melissa too...she'll understand."

Scott nods, biting his lip to keep from breaking down again.

Noshiko finally speaks,  "We should take Stiles to our home, keep him safe and try to figure out how to stop the nogitsune."

"Is that alright with you, Stiles?" Chris asks.  The boy won't lift his head, suddenly very interested in the laces on his sneakers.

"It's fine...sounds like the best idea...not like I can think of anything else right now," he says, wringing his hands together.

Scott peers at him worriedly, hesitating like he doesn't know whether to console him or stay away.

"Alright...Isaac, Scott, and Lydia will come with me.  We'll take all the cars up the road a bit and I'll tear it up so it looks like there was a fight.  Both of you boys have blood on you, so it won't be that hard to convince them," he says, glancing at Scott and Isaac. "I'll take Allison's car and...and her.  Scott, you drive my car and take Lydia and Isaac."

"I'll drive Stiles to our place, we have to get the Jeep out of here, right?" Kira asks, and her eyes are so earnest.  Chris admires her bravery, for rallying to their side in this chaos when she's been here such a short time.  Noshiko looks at her daughter skeptically. "I can drive mom, you take our car and we'll follow you."

Stiles hands Kira his keys.  "Yeah, you drive...I think I'd be a hazard to pedestrians right now..." Stiles says, his eyes so dark and tired that Chris wonders how he's still upright.

Stiles gives Scott a one-armed hug that he returns weakly.  Lydia grabs Stiles in the tightest hug she can manage without hurting him, and he strokes her head gently until she releases her grip.  Noshiko takes Stiles by the arm, slowly leading him out the front gates.  Kira steps up to Scott and very gently touches his cheek.  He can't seem to return the sentiment and she gives him a sad little smile.

"I'll...see you later?" Kira asks, and Scott nods mutely. 

Isaac's face is tight and painful, his eyes glazed like his mind is far away from everything that's happening.  He looks utterly defeated.  Chris wonders what will happen to the boys now.  Scott told him briefly what had happened to Allison; what she had said.  He worries about how it will affect their friendship...how it will affect the pack.

***

Chris dreads getting into the car with Allison's body, but he won't put any of the kids through that.  She's his daughter, and he'll take care of her until the last moment he has.

Everyone starts their respective vehicles and pulls away from Oak Creek.  They follow the same road up to a point, then split up, the Yukimuras and Stiles going one way and Chris and the kids the other.  Chris drives for several miles before choosing a spot near enough the town for the kids to have been, but remote enough that he can fake a crime scene without too much suspicion.  He enlists the their help scuffing up the ground, and leaving enough blood streaks on and around the car to give the appearance that the murder took place there. 

In order to obtain a convincing amount of blood, Chris has to supplement the boys' bloody clothing with some from Allison's wound.  He feels like the lowest scum of the earth, touching a rag to his daughter's side to collect it, but it's something he has to do.  If he's going to save these kids from arrest and give his daughter a proper goodbye, then he needs to get every detail right.  He wants to cover her, to give her the respect any fallen warrior deserves, but he knows he has to wait.  Anything the police see will be noted in their report, and he can't afford to ruin their alibi now.

Once the scene is set, he calls 911 and lets his voice go frantic, begging for an ambulance and the police.  The dispatcher does her best to soothe him and assures him that they're on their way.  After he's told the paramedics and officers are inbound, he skims through his contacts and dials the Sheriff's direct line.

"Sheriff Stilinski...Argent, what's wrong?" he asks, apprehension in his voice. "Is something wrong with Stiles?!"

"No...it's Allison.  Stilinski...my daughter is dead."

There's silence from the other end for several moments before the Sheriff responds.

"Jesus...what happened?"

"Do you remember the Oni...those things we fought in Derek's loft?"  Chris isn't sure how to tell him, to let the Sheriff know that it wasn't an ordinary murder.

"It's okay, Chris...I think I get it...I'll be down with Parrish as quick as I can."

"Thank you."  Chris gives the Sheriff their approximate location and hangs up. 

They wait for the authorities, all huddled together between the two cars. Scott and Isaac stay near to each other, but don't touch.  Lydia leans against Scott and he wraps an arm around her waist and hugs her close.  Chris stands to the side, boxing his pain up and pushing it deep inside his body.  It feels like the longest night of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would not believe the amount of research that was required just to get this chapter straight. There's so much you miss in an episode when you're living through the emotions rather than the details. If I've gotten a CANON FACT wrong, please tell me politely and I'll be sure to fix it. Everything else is just my brain filling in the holes.


	2. If this is living, would dying hurt less?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Divine Move" chapter. Here I'll expand on the events that occurred in the season finale, give voice to the pack's grief and trauma, and probe into what it all means going forward.
> 
> WARNINGS SPECIFIC TO THIS CHAPTER: Effects of mental illness (frontotemporal dementia), loss of a parent, suicidal thoughts, and major character death (but you should already know about that).
> 
> YES, your eyes are not deceiving you. I used the canon dialogue for these chapters, but filled in the holes around them with my own.
> 
> Recommended mood music: "Isn't it Bromantic" by Christopher Lennertz (Supernatural), "Mystery of the Moors" by Lifescapes- Celtic Dreams, "Vanishing Grace" by Gustavo Santaolalla (The Last of Us)
> 
> I apologize if this chapter is hard to follow, but the final episode was such an incredible clusterfuck that I didn't know what to do with it except break it down into pieces.
> 
> A ---- indicates a change in P.O.V. while *** simply indicates the progression of time within the same person's P.O.V.

The Sheriff's office has never felt so foreign.  Scott's been here plenty of times.  He's the best friend of the man's son, not to mention his experience with the bizarre things that plague their town.  It had always felt comforting to him, just like Stiles' house had, but now it's just...imposing.  You'd think he'd be used to answering the cops' questions; to concocting stories to keep most of Beacon Hills ignorant to the supernatural.  This time it feels...wrong.  Scott doesn't want to lie about Allison's death; to fabricate some story about a random stabbing, rather than tell them how she really died.  Allison had died a warrior's death, protecting her friends and their home.  This powerful, beautiful, brave girl had been killed in battle, and by a demon no-less. 

It feels like a disservice to her memory, to act like she'd been killed by some random bastard with a knife, instead of going down fighting.  It makes his skin crawl.  Scott lifts his head to look at his friends; Lydia on his right and Isaac on his left.  They're silent and absolutely still.  Lydia is staring at the floor in complete shock, while Isaac looks like someone hit him in the gut with a sledgehammer.  The smells of pain, shock, and fear are overwhelming.  Scott wants to open the door or crack a window; anything to remove the stench of horror from the room.  He can still smell the blood.  It's soaked into their clothes, in the wounds on their bodies, and drying between their fingers.  No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, the smell drags him back.  He keeps replaying the last hour over and over in his head...

***

Chris had instructed them; showed them how to plant evidence and make the scene convincing.  The paramedics got there first and set to work retrieving Allison from her car and bringing her to the ambulance.  They'd asked Chris if he wanted to try resuscitation, but he knew it was already too late.  Allison had been gone for over ten minutes, and there was virtually nothing they could do.  When the Sheriff and Parrish arrived, Scott had let out a massive breath of relief.  Stiles' dad always made him feel at ease; like he was safe, in a way that no one else could.  His mom could do massive damage with a scalpel or a syringe, and it was her who'd dropped the twins like anvils when he couldn't hold them off.  Deaton was a powerful man, steeped in mystery and magic that Scott still didn't quite understand. 

They were far from weak, but neither of them was the Sheriff.  It seemed absurd to think of it like that.  Stiles' dad had been the last to know, the most unprepared, but Scott supposed being a cop just...did something to a person.  There was an air of authority and concern that always preceded his arrival, and Scott could feel it in the air as everyone released a deep breath.  When he saw Scott, Sheriff Stilinski walked up to him and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You okay, Scott?" he asked, concern radiating off of him into the night air.

"As I can be..." he said quietly.

The Sheriff slid his hand from Scott's shoulder to wrap it gently around his neck.  Scott didn't hesitate to fall forward, wrapping his hands tightly in the back of the man's police jacket.  Letting out a shaky sob, his tears broke the surface again and he cried into Mr. Stilinski's shoulder.  The Sheriff held him close, soothing him quietly and rubbing a hand over his back. 

Once Scott had managed to regain himself, he pulled away and looked at his friends.  His tears had gotten Lydia started again, watching as he and the Sheriff embraced.  Isaac looked blanker than ever.  When he focused, Scott saw that Isaac had released his claws and was clenching his fists so hard they drew blood.  Scott wanted to go to him; to comfort his beta, but he held off.  Anger clogged Isaac's scent, and Scott knew that if he went near him right then a fight was sure to break out.  He drew away from the Sheriff and walked back to Lydia, pulling her close to him.  She covered her face and strained to compose herself, her eyes smeared with black from all the times she'd tried to wipe the tears away.

Chris had walked up to the Sheriff and met his eyes for just a moment, his face heavy with sorrow.  Sheriff Stilinski put a hand on Chris' shoulder, giving him a gentle shake and a look that spoke of deep regret.  The men had never been close.  Scott had heard about their standoff in the loft.  He was surprised they could be so close without screaming at each other, but he supposed that was just what parents did; they protected their children.  Chris had wanted to destroy the demon who threatened his daughter's life and the Sheriff had wanted to save his son, no matter the circumstances. 

Parrish and the Sheriff walked around the "crime scene," taking photos and placing evidence into sealed bags.  Scott and the others stayed-put while Chris talked to the paramedics; discussing where Allison's body would be taken and when funeral arrangements could be made.  Once all of the technical matters were dealt with, Chris came back over to them and told them he would drop them off at the Sheriff's station, then drive to the hospital to take care of Allison's needs. 

"They still have to do an autopsy, but we should be able to swing our alibi...since she was definitely stabbed..." he said, his forehead creased in pain. "Stilinski's already taken my statement, so I'll bring you three there to give yours."

Scott, Lydia, and Isaac nodded miserably.  This wouldn't be easy.

"Call me once they're through with questioning you, and I'll come pick you all up and take you home."

"Thanks," Scott said, and motioned for Lydia and Isaac to follow him toward Chris' car.  The Sheriff's department would impound Allison's for now, since it was evidence in the investigation.  Everyone piled in; Scott taking shotgun and Lydia and Isaac sharing the back.  Scott had been worried about Stiles.  He trusted Kira, but he didn't trust her mother.  Noshiko seemed determined to stop the nogitsune no matter what, and she'd made no promises that Stiles would live through it.  It had been painful to let Stiles leave with them, but Scott wanted to believe that Kira would keep his brother safe.  She had her katana if it really came to that, but Scott hoped it wouldn't...

***

"Do you remember anything else?" Parrish's voice brings Scott back to the present.

Each of them is questioned separately from the group, presumably so they can't feed off of each others answers.  Lydia had gone first; giving an emotional recounting of Chris' story, sniffling and tearing all throughout.  When it was his turn, Scott didn't cry, just repeated the lines he'd been given.  His sadness has been replaced by a tight, burning pain in the center of his chest.  It reminds him of the feeling he used to get when he couldn't breathe; like his lungs were caving in and someone was stabbing him just below his sternum.  Time seems to blur.  He's waiting outside in the lobby as Isaac has his chance alone with the Sheriff and Deputy Parrish.  Lydia has retreated to the bathroom to scrub her face clean and collect herself.  Scott doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but he can't help worrying for his beta.  He tries to send him strength, hoping his presence will help Isaac maintain calm.

"Anything else?" the deputy reiterates. "Isaac?"

Isaac's shifted so he's bent almost in half, leaning over and clasping his hands together.  Parrish is looking at him intently, watching as the boy's shoulders tense and his breathing turns ragged.

"I'm sorry," Isaac's voice is strained.  Sheriff Stilinski lifts his hand and rests it on Isaac's back, trying to soothe the boy who sounds like he's about to cry. "It just happened so fast..."

Isaac can't seem to manage another word, and the Sheriff gives Parrish a look that clearly signals the end of the questioning.  They all stand and the Sheriff walks Isaac out with a gentle grip on his elbow.  Avoiding Scott's eyes, Isaac walks away and straight out the front door.  The beta hasn't left, he's simply escaping the building while he waits for the chance to go home.  Scott considers the Sheriff, and he looks stricken.

"I wish I could go home with you kids, sit and talk to you about this, but it's kind of my job to stay out of..."

"It's okay, sir," Scott gives him his best attempt at a smile. "It's a conflict of interest...Stiles explained pretty much all of police procedure to me.  We'll be okay."

"How _is_ Stiles?" 

Scott wondered when they'd get to that.  It had to be agonizing for Stiles' dad to allow his son to run around the county, trying to destroy an evil that guns couldn't stop.

"Alright, for now.  He's at Kira's house." Scott understands the worry that flashes across the Sheriff's face at the mention of the Yukimuras. "They're trying to make sense of the nogitsune's moves...figure out a way to trap him."

"And...Stiles is safe there?" The Sheriff looks dubious.

"No one's safe until we stop that thing." That was clearly the wrong thing to say, as the Sheriff's scent thickens with dread. Scott backpedals to clarify. "What I mean is, we have to stop the nogitsune to protect everyone, but Stiles will be okay.  Kira won't let him get hurt."

Sheriff Stilinski still looks doubtful, but he nods minutely.

"This is way out of my jurisdiction, so I have to trust you kids know what you're doing, just...just bring my son back, okay?"

Scott lifts his head and looks the Sheriff in the eyes, knowing he's trained to read lies in a person's every gesture.

"Stiles is my brother, and I promise you I will do everything to get him home safe."

Scott calls Chris at the morgue and he drives back to the station to take them home.  He drops Lydia and Scott off at their houses, recommending they shower and change clothes, if nothing else to help them relax a bit.  Isaac goes back to the apartment with Chris.  Scott understands; his beta can't control his emotions right now, so he's distancing himself to lessen the chance of a fight. 

Once he's in his house, Scott listens for his mom, but hears nothing.  She must still be at the hospital.  The stairs creak and groan, and Scott thinks back to the conversation he had with his father just the other day.  He rubs at his head, as if he can still feel the injury that prompted his mom to kick his dad out years ago.  Scott wishes he could go back to the days when he was little, when Melissa could hug him and assure him that everything would be just fine.  He knows that's impossible now.  Too much has happened, and they've lost too many people for it to ever be "just fine," again.  Walking into his room, it takes everything he has not to collapse on his bed and throw the covers over himself.  It would be so easy to hide, to give up and never leave his room again.  The young wolf knows he can't do that.  Stiles is dying and everyone else in the town is in mortal danger.  They have to fight this monster because no one else knows how to.  He makes his way to the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he goes.  Avoiding the mirror, he crouches and turns the handle to start the shower.  The water is blessedly hot, and he slips under the stream with a pleased groan.  For a moment, everything fades away and he basks in the warmth cascading over his skin.  His calm is shattered however, when his nose detects a familiar coppery scent and he looks down at his hands.  Rivulets of red-brown blood run between his fingers, as the shower washes away all traces of the battle.  Scott gasps and he can't stop staring at them.  The last bit of Allison he'll ever hold is dripping off his hands and running down the drain.  A tiny sob escapes him, and he feels the same pain in his chest, that ache that a hundred showers can never wash away.

* * *

The ride in his Jeep had been long and tense.  Stiles had the basic idea of how the nogitsune worked, having been his host for some time, but there were things about his origin that remained unclear.  Kira filled him in on the story her mother and father had told her and Scott in the school; the tale of the massacre at Oak Creek and the demon born from Noshiko's anger and Rhys' pain.  Kira had insisted they stop at Stiles' house and get him a change of clothes at least, but Noshiko had objected.  Kira had argued with her mother, spurning her mistrust of him after all they'd been through.  Noshiko finally obliged, on the condition that they both follow him into the house and keep watch until he was finished.  Stiles had grabbed the first bag he found in his closet and stuffed clean clothes, his toothbrush, and his phone charger into it.  Kira and her mother both looked surprised when he stumbled down the stairs not five minutes after they'd arrived.  He didn't need much, he told them, since this would all be over soon.  He didn't mention that that was because he expected to be dead in a few hours, of course. 

When they pulled up to Kira's house, Noshiko had walked them inside and shown Stiles a spare bedroom where he could change and bathe.  Yanking his sweaty, snot-stained shirts off, he changed into the fresh clothes and stopped in the bathroom.  The hottest shower in the world wouldn't warm him now, so he didn't bother, but he did force himself to brush his teeth.  There was a stale, sickening taste in his mouth from his panic at Oak Creek.  Scrubbing as hard as his shaky hands allowed, he brushed until his gums bled and his tongue felt thick with paste.  Turning on the faucet, he crouched and cupped his hands under the water, rinsing his mouth.  When he lifted his head again, he saw his reflection.  The person who stared back at him from the mirror looked like a stranger.  His skin was paper-white and ashy, the circles under his eyes so dark it looked like he'd painted them on.  Pain was etched into the strain of his muscles and the glazed look in his eyes, giving him the appearance of someone on their way out of this world.  Looking at the state of himself was unbearable, so he turned off the water and stalked out to the living room to speak with Kira's family.

***

Stiles scans the room with interest.  Even in this pitiful state, he can't turn off his mind.  It occurs to him that he's never been to Kira's house before, and his first impression is that the house is...beautiful.  The furniture is modern; everything clean and streamlined, but it doesn't feel phony.  There's none of the sterile and impersonal look of a model home; that blankness where every wall, chair, and light fixture is some shade between white and beige.  The junctions between rooms are divided by sliding wooden doors framed with paper, just like in old-style Japanese buildings.  There's a Go board on the table in front of him, the pieces set out in a pattern he recognizes.  Noshiko must have tried to play the nogitsune's game, to copy his moves in an effort to trap the beast.  There's a huge, round window directly behind him and he feels the darkness press down on him like a shroud.  They're running out of time.

Stiles rubs his hands together, but they feel as cold and stiff as stone.   He's aware of the soft fabric of the couch he's sitting on and the warm air blowing from the vents, but none of it seems to reach him.  His body remains pale and fragile, like a relic that might shatter at any moment.  Stiles always knew he could rely on his brain, his knowledge, to save him. That's what he was good at; planning and researching, paving the way for the pack's stronger members to fight.  Now he can't trust anything, not even his own thoughts.  The nogitsune burrowed deep inside his mind and ripped everything apart.  Nothing lines up anymore; not times or places or people.  Is he really here?  Is he awake?  Is...Allison really gone? 

Scott reminded him earlier that he hasn't eaten today.  He can't remember the last time he ate.  He doesn't know what to do anymore.  What good is he if he can't help them stop this thing?  Stiles has never felt more helpless; not when he was paralyzed in the station, not when Gerard was beating him to a pulp, not even when he held Derek up in that pool for hours.  Those were all a physical type of fear; the need to run when he couldn't.  This is different.  Stiles knows he's not strong, that he can't predict death or slash his enemies to pieces or take them down with a bow, but he could always outsmart them.  What is he now?  A shell of the person he used to be, a ravaged vessel with paper skin and glass bones.  One wrong move, and he'll fall and never get up again.

Kira's mother comes into the room carrying a tray with a teapot and several earthenware cups on it.  She sets the tray on the table next to the Go board and pours a cup of steaming liquid, sliding it in front of him.

"Here, it'll calm you." Her voice is soft, so much more gentle than he's ever heard it before.  Kira sits beside him, as if she's watching over him in case her mother's gentle demeanor turns sour.  She's also changed clothes, and Stiles figures she washed her hair, since he can smell a bit of fruitiness in the air.  He glances at the cup warily.  The steam wafting off the top is tempting, he's just so cold, but he can't help but fear anything Noshiko offers him.

"What is it?"

"Tea." Noshiko says the word like a question.

"What, like...magic tea?" His voice sounds like he's speaking through gravel.

She gives him a look that's half amusement, half irritation.

"No, chamomile tea. Drink it." Her face quirks into a rare smile, and he feels just a little bit better seeing it.  He nods silently, and reaches for the cup.

Kira's dad walks slowly into the room, his dress shoes making loud thumps on the hardwood floor. 

"He's not safe here."

"He's not safe anywhere..." Noshiko looks intently at her husband, her gaze intense.

"...but Allison killed one of them, she killed an Oni.  Doesn't that mean something?" Kira looks so earnest, pleading with her eyes for some solution, some strategy.

"How is that even possible?" Mr. Yukimura asks, sliding his hands into his pockets and leaning somewhat away from the three of them.   
Stiles recognizes the pose.  It's one his own father's adopted before, and plenty of other adults he knows.  It's the stance of someone trying to look unconcerned, to appear casual in an effort to disguise their fear.  Stiles places his tea back on the table, clasping his hands together again.  It was stupid to think that it would calm him, would warm the ice in his blood.  It feels like he's outside in the winter, when the cold is bitter and you're skin's been exposed too long. 

"I'm not sure how..."

"...but she did it, she killed one of them." Kira interrupts her mother, looking between Noshiko and her father; seeking the guidance of her parents.  Every word hits Stiles deep in his gut like swallowing a stone.  _What does it matter how she did it?  It didn't do her any good.  If it had, why isn't she here now?  Why isn't she with us?_

"Yeah, and then they killed _her_." Stiles studies his hands, anger building hot in his chest, but petering out quickly.  He doesn't have the strength anymore, can't muster the energy to seethe and rage. Kira and her father's faces fall, and they look deeply remorseful. Stiles continues on, gesturing with one hand as he speaks.  It's the most "Stiles-like" movement he's made in days. "Allison's dead...and I guess the only good thing is it looks like I'm dying too."

It hurts, it hurts so much to say it, but he believes it.  Allison wasn't supposed to die.  She was strong and skilled, an asset to the pack like he could never be.  All of this was his fault.  He couldn't fight the darkness, drive away the evil and become stronger.  Scott had done it; conquered his wolf and become a better alpha.  Allison had done it; fought the spectre in her nightmares and regained the composure of a trained archer.  Stiles had only succumb.  He'd tried to stop the monster, he'd fought as hard as he could, but it beat him at every turn.  It toyed with him and frightened him, until he didn't know if anything he did was real.  Even when he wasn't in control, he'd tried to end it, to take his body somewhere where he couldn't hurt anyone.  Somehow, he'd walked all those miles into the preserve and holed up in the old coyote den. 

It must have been his subconscious' last coherent thought.  Take me away, far away, somewhere even the wolves can't find me.  It would have been okay to die, to freeze to death in that hole in the ground, as long as he wasn't responsible for any more suffering.  Of course, they had found him, and everything started all over again.  He'd had some small victories.  Coach had gotten hurt, but not fatally.  He'd managed to place that extra bomb on the bus and get his dad away from the station before the main one went off, but it wasn't much of a victory.  A deputy had died, and Chris told Stiles how Derek had protected him and ended up with an entire window-pane of glass stabbed into his back.  He'll never be able to make up for it.  Nothing he can do will ever be enough.

Noshiko stands and slides over to sit close to him.  Stiles leans away, his eyes wide and wary.  Her brows are knit in concern, and maybe guilt.  She looks upset about what he said, and that's...new.

"He made a powerful move by splitting the two of you." She reaches out and grasps his hands, and he surprises himself by not flinching away.  It's so odd to see her act like this, like a mother and not a warrior.  She squeezes his hands gently before letting go, and Stiles blinks rapidly, not quite sure that just happened.  Was this her way of comforting him?  Was she trying to tell him it wasn't his fault?  He hears the clack of ceramic and glances to his right to see Kira moving one of the Go pieces.

"So, what's our move?" Kira seems to realize her mother is at a loss, so she turns to her father.

"At this point, you need a divine move." Stiles drops his hands to his lap and directs his attention to his history teacher.

"What's that?"

"In the game of Go," it's Noshiko who answers, and Stiles turns back to listen. "It's what we call a truly inspired or...'out of the box' move."  Stiles isn't convinced.  He'd been playing games with that monster in his head for weeks, and no "divine moves" had ever come to him.

"The nogitsune has had sente; the advantage, until this point." Noshiko points to the board, indicating the position of the pieces. "What you need is a divine move in order to turn the game around."

"Okay, so is anyone feeling divinely inspired?" Stiles' tone is sarcastic, the tiniest bit of humor he can offer to break the tension that clouds the room.

"Mom, you said you trapped it in a glass jar right?"

"It wasn't the jar that trapped it...it was where I buried it."  The realization hits Stiles in the face.

"The Nemeton..."

Of course, that damn tree was the _root_ of everything.  It was the thing that had powered Jennifer's magic, that they had sacrificed themselves to, that had held the monster under it's stunted body until they lit it back up like a goddamn supernatural Christmas tree.

"A place I don't know too much about." Kira's mother looks apologetic.  She obviously knew it was powerful, but her family hadn't lived in Beacon Hills for decades.  There was virtually no way for her to know about the ritual they'd undergone, the magical bait and switch that re-activated the tree's power.

"Who does?" Kira was only starting to understand this place, and the mysterious things that lurked just under its surface.  There were others who knew it up, down, forwards, backwards and inside out, and one of those people was...

"Deaton. Deaton does."

* * *

Chris unlocks the door and pauses in the threshold.  Isaac watches him, feeling the wave of sadness overtake him as he looks into his home, and Allison's former one.  Once Chris begins to move again, Isaac follows him into the apartment.  It's unusual to come in through the front door, after trying and failing so many times to break in.  Allison had always caught him, and given him a good thrashing to teach him a lesson.  Thinking of her guts him, and he shudders violently, his breathing ragged.  Everything feels cold and empty, and he wraps his arms around himself as he listens to their footsteps echo in the hallway.  The wounds the Oni gave him still hurt, but their sting is nothing to the all-encompassing agony of loss.  Everything smells like _her_.  Chris drops his keys on the side table and his shoulders slump in defeat.

"I appreciate the concern, but you don't have to stay," Chris says, back turned to him.  The effort he's making to stay in control is heartbreaking, and Isaac can hear every break in his voice. "I'll be alright."

Isaac swallows thickly, not sure if he wants to vomit or cry.

"I've dealt with this before and uh..." Chris turns back around, but quickly drops his gaze and moves to the door. "I have a capacity...an ability to compartmentalize my emotions..."

The ex-hunter's lip quivers, his hand resting on the doorknob and eyes downcast.  They're both at the end of their rope, trying to hold on to their last thread of composure.  Isaac doesn't want to leave.  He can't.  If he does, he'll shatter and no one will ever be able to put him back together.  His dad had always gotten angry when he cried, and told him to suck it up.  He'd threatened to "beat the girl out of him," until he stopped.  More often than not, his dad had been the one to make him cry.  Issac had lost count of the times he'd let loose a sniffle and his father had reacted like a gored bull.  If he didn't have every piece of glassware in the kitchen thrown at his head, he would spend the night locked in the freezer.  He could cry all he wanted in there because no one ever heard him.  The young wolf knows Chris doesn't like him much.  When he'd caught him and Allison the other day he was convinced the man was going to put a wolfsbane bullet in his brain.  Despite all of that, he can't make himself walk out that door.  He wants someone to stay with him, talk to him, tell him one day he'll be able to breathe again without his lungs burning like fire.  He has no idea what to do to convince Chris that he needs him.  What can he say to the man who he used to fight against, to the person whose home he invaded to spend time with his daughter?  His daughter who's now dead...who Isaac couldn't save?  There's no good answer, so he says the only thing he can think of.

"I don't..."

Chris' ice-colored eyes are wet with tears, and he looks about ready to crumple to the floor.  Drawing a deep breath, he reaches for Isaac and pulls him tight to his chest.  The boy shudders and sobs; dry little things that rub his throat raw.  Chris's arms are tight around his shoulders and they press painfully against his cuts, but he doesn't care right now.  Those wounds will heal in time; the skin knitting together and covering any trace of the sword's damage.  What won't heal is the hole that's been dug out of his guts.  His arms are pinned between his chest and Chris, but he does his best to hold on, tucking his head over the man's shoulder and leaning into him heavily.  He can feel both of them sniffling hard, pressed close to share their pain.  If the young wolf wasn't hurting so badly, he might even place a hand on Chris' neck and draw away some of his grief.  Isaac shuts his eyes and tries to shove the sadness down, to twist it into anger, for when they need to fight.  It takes a while, but they begin to breathe evenly again.  The Oni's cuts are pulsing with pain and he reluctantly breaks the hug.  When Isaac looks Chris in the eyes, he can see something's different.  The shine of tears is gone and in its place is a cold determination.  Isaac is nervous, but curious.  Chris begins to walk down the hallway, but stops and looks over his shoulder.

"Come with me, we have work to do."

* * *

The Sheriff heaves a massive sigh as he sits down at his desk.  This has been a whirlwind of a year, and it doesn't seem to be dying down at all.  How the hell did this happen to him, to them?  When he'd lost his wife eight years ago, he figured that would be the hardest part of his life.  Now, a friend of his son's has been murdered by a demon, a demon for god's sake!  Not to mention Stiles had been possessed by a psychotic fox spirit from medieval Japan.  That same spirit is now wearing his kid's face and running around the county, causing terror.  This is too much.  It's just too damn much.  He's been trying, he really has.  When Stiles sat him down and tried to explain it all to him with the chessboard, he just couldn't bring himself to believe it.  Watching the hurt on his kid's face was torment, but he kept trying to find a reasonable explanation for it all.  People didn't get killed by reptile-men or werewolf packs.  That was nonsense from horror movies and crappy teen novels, not real life. 

Then he had been kidnapped; taken by the darach, who up until that point he'd known only as Stiles' English teacher.  Trapped underground with Melissa and Chris, he'd been forced to reevaluate the entire history of his town; every strange occurrence since before he'd even joined the police department.  This wasn't in the job description when he became Sheriff.  Beacon Hills was a small town, hell half of it was taken up by the preserve.  You didn't expect much to happen in those woods except maybe some illegal hunting or delinquent kids setting fires.  Who the hell would think there were werewolves running around? 

John brings his hands up and scrubs them over his face.  It's all so goddamn nuts, but it's real and he's never been so terrified in his life.  What will happen next?  Is something even worse going to come after them?  Will they ever stop the thing that's after them right now?  He hasn't seen Stiles in hours, and no matter what Scott says he can't stop worrying about him.  Stiles has been in danger too many times already; enough for a lifetime.  John remembers when his son showed up with a split lip and bruises on his face.  He'd claimed some kids from the other team had roughed him up, but now he doubts that was true.  That time at the station, when Matt had a gun trained on him, Stiles had been there too.  It figures, that his kid would be mixed up in all this supernatural crap.  Stiles is nothing if not curious, and he has a habit of sticking his nose in things that could get him killed.  It drives John up the wall, trying to keep the kid out of his files and off his phone, to try to prevent his inevitable run-ins with trouble.  Of course it was Stiles.  No matter how brazen and sarcastic he acts, deep-down Stiles is a good kid.  He has such a big heart and a need to protect, that he throws himself into the most dangerous situations.  It hurts to think about it; why his son is so focused on saving everyone.  He's pretty sure it's his fault.

***

When Claudia was in the hospital, they visited her every day.  Stiles would sit and read to her, show her pictures he drew and the action figure Scott had gotten him for his birthday.  She wasn't coherent anymore by that time, but she'd watched him with a smile on her face.  It seemed like her only lucid moments were when they visited.  John would sit and hold her hand, stroking his thumb against her soft skin and talking quietly to her.  Each day she got progressively worse.  The doctors told him she didn't have much time left, and that all they could do was manage her symptoms.  They gave her antidepressants and mood stabilizers to ease the haphazard swing of her emotions, and anti-psychotics for the times when she would struggle and scream because she forgot where she was.  John always pulled Stiles out of the room during those times.  It was hard enough for him to be losing his mother, Stiles didn't need to watch as she screamed profanities at her nurses and dug at her scalp trying to "get rid of the monsters." 

It was a few days later when she died.  They'd been sitting with her silently; that day voices had just upset her since she could no longer tell people apart.  One of the nurses slipped into the room and whispered for him to come to the front desk.  It was one of his deputies calling; they had a major pileup on the freeway and they needed every officer available to direct traffic while the firefighters helped those who were trapped.  He was torn.  His wife could slip away at any moment, but it was his duty to take care of the town too.  There was nothing he could do for Claudia now, but maybe he could prevent more deaths if he got to the accident scene in time.  The dilemma burned like acid in his chest.  He pulled Stiles aside and told him he wouldn't be gone long, just enough time to clear traffic and help assess how many people needed medical attention.  Stiles watched him with his huge brown eyes, looking terrified at the thought of his dad leaving.

"Melissa will be here with you," he'd assured his nine-year-old. "Just go to the nurse's station and tell them to page her if there's anything you need."

"Okay..." the little boy said uncertainly.  John wrapped Stiles in a tight hug and he felt long, thin fingers dig into the back of his jacket.  He scrubbed a hand over Stiles' head. mussing his soft hair and went to the desk to let Melissa know he was leaving. 

It had been the wrong decision.  It was at that accident that he'd held that woman's hand and she'd told him his wife was dying.  He couldn't understand it.  Was she someone from town who'd heard about Claudia's disease?  She gripped his hand so tight, urging him to leave her and go to his wife, but he didn't believe.  Surely, she must be hallucinating.  There was no way anyone could predict death.  He'd stayed with her until she passed, until they'd cut her out of the car and driven her away in an ambulance.  It wasn't five minutes later that he got the call from Melissa.  Claudia was gone, and he hadn't been there.  A weight settled deep in his bones as he climbed into his cruiser and drove back to the hospital.  When he got to the waiting room, Stiles was sitting with his head in his hands.  Melissa stood by him, her face wet with tears.  When she noticed John, she walked over and spoke to him quietly.

"Her kidneys were already failing, and about an hour ago her lungs started to shutdown...then her heart.  When she stopped breathing, I took Stiles out of there and we started resuscitation.  It wasn't working...her brain was so damaged...we tried to intubate her, but it was too late..."

He nodded mutely, watching Stiles.  His son hadn't lifted his head and he sat motionless in the chair.  Melissa rubbed a hand over John's back, and gave him a gentle push towards his son before walking away.  Approaching Stiles slowly, he knelt down and took his son's hands to pull them away from his face.  When he saw his child's expression, it felt like someone kicked him in the chest.  Stiles wasn't crying, his face was dry and his eyes were wide and glassy.  He didn't look at his father, just kept his eyes focused on the space directly over John's shoulder.

"Mommy's gone, Daddy...Mommy's gone..."

Hot, stinging tears filled his eyes and he leaned forward to pull Stiles close.  He clung to him and heaved horrible, wet sobs into his little boy's shoulder.  He hadn't believed that woman; hadn't believed that Claudia would go without him.  He hadn't believed.  John had never felt more guilty in his entire life.

***

He sniffs back the tears that want desperately to fall, pinching the bridge of his nose.  It was no good to dwell on misery right now.  They need to do whatever they can to stop that creature, and the last thing those kids need is someone tailing them and asking questions about Allison.  John stands and grabs his gun belt, buckling it on as he walks out of the office.  He stops in front of Parrish's desk, where the deputy is poring over paperwork.

"Hey," he says quietly.  Parrish looks up to give the Sheriff his full attention. "We need to keep this quiet as long as we can.  Once the press finds out about this, they're gonna be all over those kids."

"You want a squad car outside your house?" The idea is pointless at the moment, since no one's home, but Stiles has to come back eventually.  John exhales loudly, trying to shake some of the tension loose from his body.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea, tonight."

Parrish seems distracted by something behind him.  The deputy's eyes stretch wide and he scrambles out of his chair, reaching for his gun.  Thinking for one awful second that Parrish is pulling the gun on him, John watches him raise the weapon and spins around.  Two of those masked demons, Oni?  Two of them materialize in the front hall, directly behind an unsuspecting officer.  Before either of them has time to say a word, the demon swings its sword and the man drops to the floor, presumably dead.  Parrish fires at the Oni, but his bullets only seem to piss them off.  _Not here!  Why here?_ John can't believe this is happening. 

* * *

The smell of burning flesh is revolting, and it stirs up memories Derek wishes he didn't have.  Ethan hisses and grits his teeth, almost biting through his tongue as Derek cauterizes his wounds with the lighter.  Aiden paces behind them, no doubt sensing his brother's pain and restless for it to end.  Derek growls quietly, and Aiden stops pacing to lean heavily against the window.  Once the final wound is sealed, Derek steps back and flicks the lighter closed.

"Should be fine in a couple of hours, unless whoever shot you manages to find you again."

Aiden pushes off the window and books it for the door, his brother pulling on his shirt in a hurry to follow him.  Derek looks after them curiously.  _Where are they running off to already?_

"Lydia's with Scott, we need to go." Aiden doesn't even spare him a glance as he makes his way toward the loft door.

"You're gonna try to convince her to go with you?"

Aiden stops and turns to face him.  Ethan pulls his shirt over his head and looks at his brother before turning to Derek as well.

"I'm gonna try and convince her to run and hide, like any sane person would do."

Aiden's posture is haughty, a defense mechanism to disguise the fear Derek can smell all over him.  He turns his attention to Ethan, hoping the other twin has thought of something besides running with his tail between his legs.

"...and Danny?"

"Aliison's dead.  Stiles is dying.  What do you think?" Ethan's tone is, if possible, more scathing than his brother's.

Derek walks up to them slowly, keeping his tone calm, but challenging them all the same.

"I think Danny won't believe you, and Lydia would never run and hide."

"Because of Stiles?" The venom with which Aiden says the name grates angrily against Derek's nerves.  He fights back the snarl he can feel building in his throat.  Considering their role in two of his betas' deaths, the twins are lucky Derek didn't kill them when he found them in the woods.  Stiles has done more for this pack than either of these idiots could ever dream of.  Most of them owe their lives to him in one way or another.  This time however, it's not just Stiles that he's talking about.

"Because of Scott." Derek advances again, his arms loose at his sides, but a hint of anger in his voice now. "You've been trying to find a way into his pack, trying to earn his trust, trying to fight for him...but you've had it wrong the whole time." 

The twins look skeptical, like Derek's completely missing the point, but he knows it's the other way around.

"You don't fight for a leader, you fight for a leader's cause."

Ethan seems contemplative, but Aiden is clearly losing patience.

"What cause?"

"Scott's always been about one thing; saving his friends. He will do anything and everything, to save the people he cares about."  He has their attention now.  They're looking him in the eyes and listening. "When there's no chance of winning, he keeps fighting.  When all hope is lost, he finds another way.  When he's beaten down, he stands up again."

Derek throws all the conviction he can into the words.  He knows the twins will be listening for his heartbeat.  It's not so much that he thinks Scott _can_ handle this, but that he  _has_ to.  Derek's at a loss.  He'd had his try at alpha-dom, and it hadn't ended well.  He'd wanted to help those kids find confidence, find a family, but it ultimately got them killed.  His pack was shattered and he was left with nothing, but the empty hole that had once been filled with their presence.  Derek had been alone so long, and he didn't want to be ever again.  When Scott gained his alpha powers, Derek knew his time as a leader was over.  Scott is unskilled; like a yearling pup trying to be a leader.  The boy is a combination of teenage bravado and hormones, but he has a strong heart.  It will take time, but Derek thinks he'll turn into a good alpha if he truly dedicates himself to it.  The older wolf wants to be around to see it, and to help Scott get there.  If he can't be their alpha, maybe he can still be their teacher.

The twins appear to believe him now.  Their eyes have softened and they're not so tense, their shoulders slumping in acceptance.

"You want to earn a place in his pack? You want redemption? Find another way to stand and fight."

Ethan and Aiden turn to look at each other for a moment, and seem to silently agree on something.  They're both breathing heavily when they turn back to Derek, and he can still smell the remnants of poisoned blood on their skin.  They hesitate a bit, but both finally nod.  Derek stares hard at them both before he nods back.  They need to go.  There's no time to spare.

* * *

Lydia sits cross-legged on her bed, freshly showered and dressed.  She's done her makeup and hair, but now she can't seem to move.  It's like forgetting you have a bruise and banging it against a hard surface.  She'd allowed herself to get swept up in it; choosing the perfect outfit, styling her hair, and applying just the right amount of mascara.  Now it all feels hollow.  What on earth is she doing?  Her best friend is dead.  Allison is gone and she isn't coming back.  The grief hits her anew, and she doubles over trying to hold in the tears.  What good will crying do?  She already sobbed for hours, and the feeling in her chest never let up.  This isn't over, not by a long shot.  That beast is still out there, draining the life out of Stiles and doing who knows what to the rest of the town.  There's no time for mourning, they have to end this, but every time she tries to get up it feels as though she'll fall over.  Her legs are jelly and her hands shake.  When her cellphone rings she startles so badly that she almost falls off of her bed.  Taking a deep breath to calm down, she swipes the phone from the top of her night table and answers it.

"Hello?"

"Lydia?" She's surprised to hear Scott.

"Yes, what's wrong?"

"I just got a call from Stiles. He was talking to Kira and her mom, and they think they have some idea how we can fight the nogitsune."

Lydia feels her heart start to race.  Hearing that Stiles called Scott, that he's still strong enough to devise plans, is so good to hear.  She'd been terrified when he'd slumped to the ground in that tunnel; his face ghostly-white and his breathing shallow.  Lydia had wanted to call for help or try to wake him, but every helpful thought she'd had was washed away when she felt the sword pierce Allison's chest.  Screaming until her voice gave out, she collapsed with Stiles and sobbed as she felt the life drain out of her best friend.

"What do they need us to do?"

"Stiles says it has to do with the Nemeton. He wants us to talk to Deaton."

"Alright, but how are we going to get there?"

"Mom has the car at the hospital, so I'll have to take my bike...oh."

"Right..."

"Um..."

"Don't worry about it.  I'll borrow my mom's car and come pick you up.  You're still at home, right?"

"Yeah.  Thanks, Lydia."

"Of course.  Whatever I can do."

"See you in a few, then."

Scott hangs up and so does Lydia.  Her body feels lighter now, charged with energy and eager to move.  Finally getting her legs under her, she runs to find a pair of shoes and grab her keys from the hook by the front door.  Starting the car feels like hitting the button on a stopwatch.  As soon as she pulls out of the driveway it all becomes real again.  They're racing against the clock to destroy that thing, before it can destroy them.

***

Lydia pulls up outside Scott's house in record time.  He's already waiting on the front porch, and makes a beeline for the car when she stops.  She unlocks the doors and he scrambles in, giving her directions to Deaton's office and rambling about everything Stiles had said on the phone.  She can't keep up with everything, so many of the words are foreign and sound vaguely magical.  This is nothing like mathematics or physics, where she can follow every word and deduce the answer immediately.  The nogitsune is a problem of another caliber.  It doesn't follow the rules and it cares nothing for the mess it leaves behind.  To trap something so devious and cunning, they have to think outside the box.  It's already proven impervious to normal weapons, and no one's found a spell that can stop it.  Deaton managed to poison it, but that only stopped it for a day or two.  Lydia focuses hard; sifting through every bit of information she's learned about supernatural creatures in the past year.  They've dealt with a kanima (who turned out to be her boyfriend), a pack of alpha werewolves, an evil druid...there has to be something they can do to put an end to the nogitsune's power play, but what?

The lights of the animal clinic come into view and Lydia pulls into the lot, parking her car right in front of the entrance.  She follows Scott as he walks to the door and knocks.

"Don't you have keys to the clinic? You're his only employee, right?"

"Wouldn't work.  Deaton's got the whole place warded with mountain ash, and even if I managed to push past that he'd be ready to shove a wolfsbane-tipped knife into my chest."

Lydia stares at Scott, amazed that Deaton would go to such extreme measures to protect the animal clinic.  Although, it makes sense in theory.  No one seems to know where Deaton lives, and any time one of the wolves got hurt he brought them here for treatment.  Better to protect the clinic against attacks than to lead monsters back to his own home.

It takes a few minutes, but Deaton appears on the other side of the door.  He looks shocked to see them, but only pauses for a moment and speaks quietly.  Lydia figures he's breaking the power of the ash line so they can cross over it.  Lydia wonders if it's solely for Scott's benefit or if she, as a banshee, would also be forced out.  It's a theory she needs to test.  Apparently finished, Deaton unlocks the door and lets them in.

"What are you doing here," he asks Scott once he's closed the door behind them.

"We need to talk to you about the Nemeton and the nogitsune."

Deaton narrows his eyes, looking from Scott to Lydia and back again.

"I don't know what you think I can do..."

"You have to know something, you always do!" Scott seems so sure, but Deaton looks doubtful. "You were the one who went all the way to Japan, to get the wolf lichen to poison the nogitsune!  A poison you used just in time to save my life!"

Deaton glances away, not disagreeing, but not offering answers either. "I did what I had to, and that only sent it to sleep, it didn't kill it."

"Deaton...you know about the Nemeton..." Scott's voice is pleading now.

Sighing heavily, Deaton motions for them to follow him into the back where the exam room is.  As soon as they're through the door, Scott begins again.

"Stiles and Kira said it was the Nemeton that kept it trapped."

"The problem is, this isn't even a person you're fighting, it just looks like one. It's a spirit that's taken the shape of a human," Deaton responds, looking uncomfortable.

"The shape of my best friend." Scott's voice lowers and he sounds upset, as if just talking about Stiles is painful.

Lydia feels the surge of energy inside of her beginning to turn to dread, and she interjects. "Someone caught it once, someone can do it again, right?"

Deaton looks amazed at her.  The last time she was here was when they had sacrificed Stiles, Scott, and Allison to trick the Darach and save their parents.  Lydia doesn't know much about the Nemeton, but she knows it's powerful.  She turns to Scott, feeling a little self-conscious and hoping for his support.  Up until recently, she'd thought she was just an ordinary girl caught up in a crazy place teeming with monsters.  When Peter had bitten her, it all started to get muddled.  All that time she'd spent thinking she was losing it, only to find out she was inadvertently resurrecting that madman from the dead.  Then, when she'd found out she was a banshee...

It had all been scary as hell, it still _is_ scary as hell, but Lydia Martin doesn't run from problems.  Lydia Martin finds a way to fight back and then she stomps all over those problems in her glorious Jimmy Choos.

"I don't know, this thing was trapped a long time ago, before the Nemeton was cut down. It doesn't have the same power anymore."

Scott's face falls, but there's still a spark of hope there.

"Is there anything that does?"

"Possibly. When the tree was whole, its wood was sometimes used to contain powerful objects, but those objects are...very rare."

Lydia's brain snaps to a halt.  She knows of an object like that.  It isn't a great memory for her; nothing with Peter in it is. "Wait a second. Powerful objects, like an alpha's claws?"

Scott swivels to look at her, eyes wide and confused.  Deaton looks intrigued.

"Which alpha?" Deaton sounds very wary.

With both of them so focused on her Lydia feels a bit nervous.  Everything seems to be riding on her answer.

"Talia Hale." She watches Deaton's eyes, how they seem to light up when she mentions Talia.  It's as if he knows exactly what she's referring to. "Peter had them in this wooden box with a triskele carved in the lid. What if it was made from the Nemeton?"

Deaton's face goes from intrigued to guarded.  He drops his gaze and turns a sheepish look back to her.

"It was."

Scott stares at the Druid turned vet. "How do you know?"

There's a beat of silence, while Deaton seems to steel himself.  What he says shocks them both.

"Because I made it..."

Scott and Lydia's jaws promptly hit the floor.  It takes a moment for both teenagers to compose themselves and press for more information.  Lydia almost laughs when she thinks about it later.  As if anything should surprise them now.  Scott immediately calls Derek as Lydia sits with Deaton to learn more about the triskele box.

* * *

The Sheriff's station has become a battleground.  John and his deputies, Parrish among them, are crouched behind their desks like makeshift barricades.  The Oni that Parrish shot lays motionless on the floor of the lobby, but the Sheriff is not convinced that it's "dead."  Ordinary bullets didn't stop them for long in Derek's loft, and there's no sense thinking that they will now.  John holds his gun at the ready and Parrish stands as if to follow him, but he signals for the man to stay back.  His deputy sinks back to the ground and whispers for the others to do the same.  Edging around the wall and peering into the doorway, John watches as the Oni dissolves into smoke and then leaps back to its feet, seemingly unharmed. 

"Sheriff!"

He hears Parrish's warning just in time, as another of the bastards comes up behind him and attacks.  He dives out of the way and careens backwards into a desk, knocking the computer monitor over as he and his officers fire round after round into the demon's body.  It keeps advancing, and its comrade joins in the attack.  No matter how rapidly they unload their weapons into the demons it doesn't even slow them down.  He slides back to shoot shoulder to shoulder with Parrish, favoring his side where he slammed into the desk.  The younger man glances at him worriedly.  They both continue to shoot, knowing it won't help, but what else can they do?

* * *

Melissa is walking the halls of the hospital with her ex-husband, which is something she'd never imagined happening before this year.  Werewolves, darachs, kanimas, what was a little family drama compared to the world of the supernatural?  To be honest, she wouldn't be surprised if a vampire walked in the door demanding to know where the blood bank is.

Rafe is trying to persuade her to tell Scott that he's leaving.  The lights overheard flicker oddly and she looks up, wondering what the problem is.  The weather is clear and cold, so it can't be a storm causing the power to go out.  Thinking of power outages reminds her of the power plant, and the day when the nogitsune apparently gained control over Stiles.  How is she supposed to focus on regular patients when her son's best friend is probably dying, and some crazy monster is wearing his face?

"I just think it'd be better if it came from you," he says quietly.

Which of course means: I'm too chickenshit to tell my son face-to-face that I'm leaving him again.

"So I tell Scott that his dad went back to San Francisco, says he's sorry, but he didn't have time to say goodbye?"

"Right, then I'll send a...follow-up e-mail or something."

Melissa rolls her eyes and shakes her head.  Is this really the best he can do?  She can't believe this is the same man she'd saved from death just days ago, holding his wound closed before he bled out on her floor.  She wonders if all divorced parents feel this way; like they've lost track of the reason they ever fell in love with that person in the first place.  They stop in front of the elevator and she pushes the button, waiting for it to come up so she can get on with her rounds.

"You're an idiot."

"What's wrong with that?" He sounds so genuinely dumbfounded.  It's a wonder how he manages to keep his job if he's this bad at communication.  Melissa wants to punch him, but the elevator arrives so she opts to step in instead, hoping he'll take the hint and go.

"Seriously?"

He spreads his arms in a confused gesture and she groans, but he follows her anyway.  She presses the number of her floor and stands to the side, clutching her files to her chest.

"Rafe, if you want a relationship with your son, you can't just bail after one fight."

Rafe scoffs and nods minutely. "Well, he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you, he just...wants you to try harder."

Her ex drops his head and studies the floor, seeming to agree.  The lights flicker again and the elevator shakes violently before coming to a stop. "What's going on?"

"I don't know..."

The doors chime and open on a scene of absolute panic.  People are screaming and running down the halls, calling desperately for help.  Melissa has no idea what's happening, then she sees the Oni.  The demons are indiscriminately slaughtering everyone in their way: doctors, nurses, even family members in the waiting room.  The screams become garbled as people choke on blood and crumple to the ground.  Bodies lay everywhere; some dead and others dying.  Her instincts as a nurse compel her to rush forward and help them, and she's about to as the demon swings its blade. 

"Get back!"

Rafe pushes her backwards and pulls his gun.  She didn't even know he was carrying it.  He fires at the demon nearest to the elevator and another one comes forward.  He presses the button to shut the elevator doors and keeps shooting until the steel cuts the demons off from sight.  Melissa takes a deep, shuddering breath and immediately feels a massive pain in her left leg.  As she looks down, she sees that her scrubs are cut and blood is rushing out of a deep gash in her thigh.  Now that the shock of the attack is behind her, she can feel the pain pulsing deep in her muscles, burning hot with every beat of her heart.  Rafe crouches down beside her, his hands hovering over her in panic as he tries to figure out what to do.

* * *

Chris and Isaac have been at the apartment for an hour or so.  Once both of them had stopped crying, they'd gone their separate ways for a bit.  The young wolf had disappeared, while Chris sat in his office and sifted through the bestiary, looking for anything that might help them stop the nogitsune.  Chris knows they can't sit idly while that creature slinks around Beacon Hills.  His despair over Allison has lessened somewhat, enough that he can at least push it to the side until they figure this out.  He goes looking for Isaac, wondering where the boy's gotten to in the time he's been sitting alone.  He finds him in Allison's room, sitting on her bed.  Another time, he would probably have been angry and maybe even yelled at Isaac, but not now.  Isaac had been spending most of his days in their apartment, even before all the nogitsune nonsense.  It was hard for Chris to accept that his daughter was interested in another werewolf.  He may be retired, but old habits die hard.  It had taken a while, but Isaac had wormed his way into his heart.  They faced her death together and Chris had to admit that he cared for the kid.  How could he deny Isaac comfort now?  He was an orphan with a father whose idea of parenting included beatings and solitary confinement.  Isaac needed someone to look after him, and Chris needed somewhere to focus his attention, someone who could fill the empty space in his life once occupied by his family.  They could help each other, he realized.  Isaac had spent enough time with both Allison and him to know not to push Chris; to show him respect and let him grieve in his own way.

The ex-hunter just watches for a moment, feeling heavy with remorse as he stands in the doorway to his daughter's room.  Isaac is fiddling with one of Allison's ring daggers, holding it and testing the edge with his fingers.

"Careful, that one takes some practice."

Isaac scoffs, releasing the dagger without issue when Chris reaches for it.

"When Allison was learning, she had to bandage her fingers because they got so raw." Shifting over to stand by the window, he runs his finger over the blade's edge, listening to the metallic scrape against his skin. "She didn't give up on it, though."

"She kept trying to say something." Isaac's voice is so quiet that Chris almost doesn't hear him.

"What's that?"

"She was trying to say something, to Scott." The boy's voice breaks and Chris can hear him forcing back tears. "You have to tell him, she said, you have to tell my father."

Chris walks back over to Isaac, sitting down on the bed.

"She said she didn't get the chance to finish it, but I'm sure it's just that she loved you."

Chris feels gutted.  It's like ripping the wound open all over again, and he bites his lip as the urge to cry washes over him.

"Okay, that's okay. She uh...she made a point of telling me earlier."

Isaac starts to nod, but pauses as if something doesn't make sense.

"Earlier?"

"There's a tradition...we have."

Isaac chuckles slightly, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

"Silver bullet?"

Chris rolls his eyes a bit and spins the dagger.  It figures the younger wolves would believe the myth that every hunter carried magazines full of silver bullets.

"She was making a silver _arrowhead_."

He hands the blade back to Isaac and gives him a strong pat on the back, before getting up and making to walk out the door.

"Where is it? The arrowhead."

The question stops him.  Chris has no idea why Isaac would suddenly be interested in a hunter's weapons.

"Downstairs?"

The boy stands and hesitates a second, his eyes far away like he's deep in thought.  He's still holding Allison's dagger as he approaches the doorway.

"I need to see it."

"Why?"

"'Cuz I have a feeling it isn't there." Isaac sets off down the hall, his footsteps loud in the quiet apartment.

Chris watches him go, completely dumbfounded by the suggestion.  What the hell does Isaac know that he doesn't?  Determined to find out, he follows the boy down into their weapons bunker.

* * *

Melissa screams as her leg burns and bleeds.  At first she thinks she's imagining it, but on closer inspection it actually is burning.  Black smoke hisses and swirls out of the wound, exactly the same as the kind that billows around the Oni.  Rafe looks down at it and seems to realize at the same time that she does that this is no ordinary wound.

"What the hell is it?"

"Poisonous...hurts, hurts like hell!" Each word is a struggle, her leg on fire and her heart racing as she tries to keep herself from panicking.  Rafe grabs a surgical drape that's fallen on the floor and tears a strip off.  He bends down to wrap it around her leg.

"Oh careful, careful..." He knots it at the juncture of the wound and she cries out in pain.  A doctor he is not.  She presses down on the bloody gash with as much force as she can stand, trying to slow the bleeding.  All too soon, the lights flicker again and the elevator comes back to life.  Rafe swivels around frantically.

"Oh god..." Melissa groans, dreading the moment when the doors open again.

"We're gonna get you outta here."

She has no idea what state the rest of the hospital is in.  Her training has taught her to remain calm in situations like this, but no one ever taught her how to deal with demon attacks.  The pain in her thigh is lancing up her hip and seems to be on it's way to her chest.  If it's poisonous, and she thinks it is, then it's the fastest moving poison she's ever experienced.  At this rate it'll reach her heart in minutes.

* * *

Everything is chaos; lamps swinging, glass breaking, papers scattered all over the floor.  The deputies are scrambling, firing everything they have into the demons to keep them from advancing into the station.  John's retreated into the back, but not to run away.  He watches as Parrish ducks behind one of the desks and rushes to reload his pistol.

"You're gonna need a bigger gun."

John strides out of the weapons locker, toting a shotgun.  He yanks the pump back and fires at the nearest Oni.  The force of the shot sends it flailing backwards and they take the moment to advance; the Sheriff leading the assault.  His deputies continue to fire, but their bullets ricochet off the demons like they're hitting solid steel, making the distinct ping of metal against metal.  One deputy gets too close and a sword slices across his middle, stopping him in his tracks as the Oni spins and cuts him again across the back.  John turns in time to see the same demon stalking toward Parrish, but he pushes the younger man out of the way and races forward to block the sword.  The strike is more powerful than he expected and he drops the shotgun, feeling the blade slice into his forearm.  Parrish abandons all manner of protocol and yanks him back by the collar of his shirt, stepping forward to shoot at the demon himself.  As John falls to the floor cradling his arm, he watches the monster deflect every shot with its sword.  This is insane.  How can they fight something they can't even wound?

* * *

Scott had just finished his conversation with Derek about the family heirloom that might be able to save all their lives.  If it truly has the power to catch and hold the demon, then maybe this can finally end.  It had been a strange conversation at first, since Derek had no idea that Lydia had ever seen it, let alone that Peter had used his mother's claws to serve his own needs.  Once Scott explained the power of the wood it was made of, it didn't take much for the older wolf to agree to bring the box to them.  Ever since he'd lost his alpha powers, Derek seemed determined to cement his place in the pack; to prove to Scott that he was trustworthy.

"Derek's got the triskele box, he's gonna meet us."

Deaton nods and Scott actually feels excited.  This could be it.  They could win.  His excitement dies when he turns to Lydia and watches her eyes flutter closed as she begins to sway.  Scott grabs her arm and steadies her, and she snaps back surprisingly fast.

"What's wrong?" Deaton watches her cautiously.  Scott studies her expression, worried about what it means.  Usually, when Lydia feels something it's not anything positive.

"Something's happening. I got this sudden rushing feeling, like we're running out of time."

"Yeah." All three of them spin around in unison, so shocked to hear that voice.  Stiles is standing there in the clinic, supported by Kira. "Yeah, I got that feeling too."

Deaton steps away quietly, giving them time to speak with their friends.  Scott's heart aches for his brother.  He seems worse, if that's even possible.  It looks like he can no longer walk without support, and the red rims of his eyes stand out more than ever against the white of his skin.  Scott's puzzled that he didn't catch Stiles' scent as he came in, but looking at him now tells him why.  His friend is wasting away; so little of him left that his presence barely registers to the wolf's nose.  Stiles' usual scent is a sweet tang that warms your chest and sticks in your throat; smells like citrus fruit and wood smoke, burned sugar and salty ocean waves.  Underneath all of that, there's also a spark of heat, like lightning during a storm.  In a word, healthy Stiles smells like summer.  This Stiles smells blank, like ice and stone.  There's no denying it anymore, he's dying.  Scott rushes forward to get hands on his brother, feeling his forehead and rubbing his shoulders.  Lydia slides up under Stiles' opposite arm, gesturing for Kira to let go and allow her to hold him up.  Kira nods and pulls Scott aside, while Lydia helps Stiles over to a chair.

"What happened? Why are you two here?"

"We were waiting to hear from you, but then Stiles...got worse." Kira looks frightened. "When I mentioned it, he figured we'd better come to you before he was too sick to walk anymore..."

Scott's eyes widen in fear.  Are they out of time?

"Did you feel it too?" Lydia asks as Stiles settles into a chair by the wall.

Stiles gives her a sobering look. "He may have split us up, but I can still feel him...he's still part of me."  Lydia runs her hand down Stiles' head, gently massaging the back of his neck.  He winces slightly before leaning into the touch.

Scott feels a terrible sadness for his friend.  His entire body looks tense, like a rubber band wrapped too tight.  It looks like the slightest impact could snap Stiles' spine.  There has to be a way to stop it, to save him.

"Are you guys still determined to end this?" Stiles sits up as straight as he can manage and stares seriously at the group of them.  One by one, they nod.  Stiles heaves a huge sigh and clasps his hands together, leaning his chin on them. "I know where he is."

* * *

Chris leads Isaac into the weapons bunker below their home.  He pulls back the cloth, uncovering the line of neat arrowheads Allison had crafted.

"Why would she make four of them?"

"She didn't, she made five." Isaac stares down at the arrowheads, his voice thick with emotion. "She made the first one, then she figured it out."

Chris looks them over, still trying to ascertain what he could have missed.

"She used the first silver arrowhead to kill one of the Oni."

Chris can't believe what he just heard.

"We saw her do it."

The thought of Allison's last stand makes his eyes well up.  He can picture it perfectly; her grace and power as she let the arrow fly.  It's a beautiful image, but he still doesn't know what Isaac means.  The boy needs to get to the point.

"How?"

"The same way that you almost did."

He turns to stare at Isaac, comprehension dawning at last.

"Do you remember when you told us about one of your first gun deals with the Yakuza?"

He does.  He remembers the cold and the slippery slide of his boots in the snow, the fear as he watched the gang of demons come ever closer.

"That meeting wasn't one of my first deals, it was my first."

"The bullet that you used to shoot the Oni, was that a silver bullet?"

"Yes." The gunfire had been deafening, and he had to fight down the panic; the urge to run.  Chris remembers picking the bullet out of the snow and sliding it into his clip.  He remembers firing once, straight at the Oni's face and watching its mask shatter. "...but it didn't kill 'im, it just broke his mask."  The discussion seems to be going nowhere.  Yes, the bullet had been silver, but it hadn't worked.  Why did Isaac want to know in the first place?  He narrows his eyes and watches the boy.

"Probably went straight through." Isaac seems to be thinking about something, staring down at the workbench. "What if silver is like a poison in them? What if it needs to stay in the body?"

Isaac turns, a reluctant look of triumph on his face, looking to Chris for confirmation.

"What if that's what she was trying to tell Scott? What if that's what she was trying to tell you, that she'd figured it out?"

Isaac advances on him, trying to meet Chris' eyes, but the ex-hunter is reeling.  This idea is hard to absorb.  Can it really be that easy?  He touches the fourth arrowhead gently, trying to come to terms with his daughter's knowledge.  She was such a smart girl; an excellent tactician.  It wasn't much of a stretch to imagine her figuring it out.

"These four were still setting when she went off to meet Scott."

"We can stop them."

Chris picks one of the arrowheads off the cloth and studies it at eye level.  This is exactly what they needed.  They can end this once and for all, and he can destroy those things that took his daughter from him.

"No, we can kill them."

* * *

John sits with his back to one of the desks.  He's still holding his gun, but his arm is burning like hot coals and he feels weaker by the minute.  Someone crashes to the floor next to him, and he raises his pistol in defense.  It's just Parrish, and he sighs gratefully, lowering his weapon.  It seems like they have a reprieve, until Parrish grabs at his shirt and comes away with blood on his hands.

"What the hell happened?"

John looks around the room.  He can only see one other deputy from where he sits.  All of three of them are wounded.

"They left, they just..." Parrish winces and pulls his shirt free of his trousers to expose a nasty wound to his torso. "They left." Parrish groans as his wound oozes black smoke.

"Why did they let us live?"

The Sheriff looks down at his arm; at his wound that's leaking the same black smoke.

"I'm not so sure they did."

He grimaces at the pain, but he's not worried about himself.  What are they supposed to do now?  Even with the Oni gone, the station is smeared with blood and all of them are slowly succumbing to what must be poisonous wounds.  The pack needs to know that the demons are on the move.  Stiles is out there, and so are all of his friends.  Will he ever see his son again?

* * *

Scott skids to a stop in the school's parking lot.  The Jeep protests on the slick asphalt, but it brakes all the same and he shuts the engine off, leaving the keys in the ignition.  He hurries out of the car, Kira climbing out the back with her katana slung across her shoulders.  Stiles stumbles out of his seat and almost falls, before he catches himself on the railing overlooking the front staircase.  The world spins and he finds it hard to focus his eyes.  Lydia steps forward and grabs him around the waist, slinging his arm over her shoulders and stabilizing him.  The four of them make their way to the school's front doors, but Stiles stops them before they can go in.

"Scott, hold on." His friend turns to him, looking impatient.

"I know what you're all thinking, that if this works it might kill me too..." Scott's face falls, still holding onto the door handles. "...but even if it does, you just...you have to go through with it. Stick with the plan, okay?"

"The plan is to save you." Scott has his determined face on; where he sets his jaw just so and his eyes get all intense. "That's the plan I'm goin' with."

Stiles is frustrated with Scott's stubbornness, but he has to admit that the guy's unwavering loyalty warms his heart.  There's nothing he can say to change Scott's mind, so he shuts his mouth.  He'll go along with it for now, but when the time comes Stiles will make the decision if his life is worth saving or not.  His brother's determination to save everyone is admirable, but Stiles has had enough of sacrifices and possession.  He's seen enough horror in seventeen years to make Steven King go weak in the knees.  This has to end, and he'll see that it does.  One thing he won't do however, is let anyone else die because of him.

Scott pushes the double doors open and steps through, the others following.  A blast of icy air hits them in the face and they stumble forward, confused.  This isn't the school, this isn't even a building.  The heavy door slams shut behind them.  They're outside...in the snow...in Japan?  Or at least, it looks like Japan.  They walk through an archway made of wood and ceramic tiles, there are shrine lanterns, an ornate footbridge, and everything is surrounded by a low, stone wall.  Snow falls thickly and they spread out, looking around for some sign of the school they're supposed to be in.  Lydia lets go of Stiles, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering.  Her light dress is definitely not fit for this weather.  _Weather...what even?_

Kira looks at Scott for some explanation, but he has none to offer.  Stiles steps away from his friends, the full impact of their situation slowly sinking in.  He thought they were prepared, that they had the upper hand, but he was wrong again. 

"Well, this is definitely not part of the plan."

The nogitsune knew they were here, and he'd already trapped them.

* * *

"It's me again. I'm gettin' nothing from dispatch and no one's on the line. Call me back, Stilinski. Call me as soon as you get this."

Melissa can hear Rafe talking, leaving message after message for the Sheriff, the officers, anyone who might come and help.  She can't look up at him because the lights have started to hurt her eyes.  She's still applying pressure, but everything is starting to get hazy.  Her head is so heavy, and it would be wonderful to just lay down for a minute.  Rafe turns back to her, his hands covered in her blood as he reaches down to rouse her.  She grimaces and groans, knowing she has to stay awake, but finding it hard.

"Okay...okay...call Scott, you need to call...Scott."

"You're gonna be alright." He thinks she's giving him the final speech.  The _"I'm about to die, so I need to tell my son I love him,"_ speech.

"That's not what I mean."

He keeps his hands on her shoulders, looking intensely into her eyes as she fights to stay upright.

"Melissa, I need to get you out of here. I'm gonna help you to your feet, okay?"

"Rafe, listen...listen to me..." Her voice is faint as she struggles to breathe.

"No, you're gonna be fine."

"If something happens, you need to work it out with Scott..." Rafe takes a deep breath, looking frustrated and worried.

"Melissa..."

"You just need to try again."

"I tried to apologize..."

"He's a teenage boy, he doesn't care about apologies...he wants you to do better...he probably wants you to suffer a little..." She looks away at the wall, not meeting his eyes as her vision blurs.  Rafe is breathing hard and sniffling, like he's trying to hold back tears. "Promise me, that you'll try to make it work."  He grits his teeth and nods hard.

"Okay."

Rafe pulls her upright and turns her around, pointing his gun out of the elevator as it opens onto the same floor.  Melissa can hear, but not see the people crying out for help and the doctors barking orders to find any clean medical supplies they have.  She yells and tries to steady her leg, but the pain is too much and she goes limp.  Satisfied that there are no enemies to shoot, Rafe grabs her under the arms and drags her out of the elevator.

* * *

Derek strides forward briskly, his body tense with anger.  He's already wolfed-out, his fangs and claws at the ready as he approaches the school's main staircase.  Scott had changed plans on him last minute, explaining Stiles' instinct and telling him to bring the triskele box to the school.  Stepping out of the tunnel under the bridge, he sees the nogitsune sitting on the steps, flanked by two of the Oni.  The bastard looks smug, resting his elbows on his knees and bouncing his feet.  No...Stiles' feet.  It turns something in Derek's gut, watching this monster masquerade as the boy he knows.  It wasn't enough to torture Stiles for months; to traumatize him and make him wish for death.  Even separated, the monster continues to wound him, to commit murder wearing his face.  Derek may not know that much about demons, but he knows plenty about being manipulated.  Stiles may not be the best fighter or the most well-spoken, but his heart is so unerringly good.  For all the teasing, nitpicking, and disinterest he projects, he's the one who always comes running when someone's in trouble.  That's something Derek's realized recently, something they need to talk about, so Stiles needs to make it out of this alive.

"Did you bring us a present?" The nogitsune's voice is teasing, as if Derek is a foolish child.

The twins come out of the shadows to stand with him, their eyes glowing blue and their fangs glistening in the moonlight.

"I brought two."

The demon raises his brows and looks intrigued, almost giddy.

"Now I've heard of an alpha pack Derek, but not a pack of former alphas." His face turns condescending. "It's a little sad, isn't it?"

"I may not be an alpha anymore..." he advances on the enemy, the twins in tow. "...but I can still fight like one."

The Oni draw their swords and swing them threateningly.  _It's not Stiles, it's just pretending to be him.  You can hurt this thing._   He throws back his head and roars, the twins joining in as they charge.

* * *

Kira holds her hand out and catches some of the snowflakes in her palm, as if she's trying to prove that this is real.  The sound of footsteps startles them and they turn back to the entrance.  Prowling forward on shaking legs, the nogitsune's true form emerges from the shadows.  Stiles' eyes widen in fear and his body tenses, waiting for the pain.  The monster turns its blind face towards their group, raising a deformed, bandaged hand to the sky.

"Like I promised you Stiles, we're going to kill all of them..." the nogitsune's voice is deafening, more a roar than speech. "One...by...one!"

He gnashes his metallic fangs and snarls, making a fist as Oni materialize around them.  Everyone is momentarily frozen.  Kira is the first to move, parrying an Oni's katana with her own, and everyone snaps out of it.  The Oni creep towards them, dragging their swords in the snow.  Stiles doesn't know where to focus.  Does he watch the nogitsune or the Oni?  Which is the bigger threat right now?

"What the hell is this, where are we?" Scott stares the nogitsune down, his voice wavering with confusion.

"Between life...and death," the demon's cold, metal grin makes Stiles sick to his stomach.

"Bardo..." Lydia reminds them of the first time Kira spoke to them, teaching them the Tibetan Buddhist word.

"But there are no peaceful deities here, Lydia." The nogitsune waves a finger through the air, as if it's scolding the girl.  Hearing it say her name makes Stiles' blood run cold, but he's come too far to back away now.

"You're dying Stiles," the nogitsune continues, it's pitch lilting as if it's amused. It walks closer slowly, its legs ungainly. "And now everyone you care about is dying too."

Scott stares at him, his eyes bright and scared.  Stiles doesn't understand.  This was supposed to be his sacrifice and only his.

"What...what do you mean?"

"I've captured almost all the territories on the board, Stiles." The monster taunts him and he swallows hard, feeling his heart clench with finality. "The hospital, the Sheriff's station, and now...the animal clinic."

Lydia puts her hand on his shoulder to comfort him.  Scott turns his fearful expression back to the nogitsune at the mention of the clinic.

* * *

Deaton should have expected this before now, but he thought the ash lines would hold.  Of course, that hadn't stopped them from getting into Scott's house.  The Oni stride forward, making hideous clicking sounds like clockwork insects.  He grabs a medical cart and flings it at them, temporarily blocking one of the demons from attacking.  The other dodges around it and comes at him, swinging.  Deaton avoids the demon's strikes and grabs its sword, using the weapon against the other Oni.  The second demon makes one wrong move and he brings it down, sending it flying over the exam table.  Too late, he realizes the other demon has gotten behind him, and it slices a deep wound across his lower back.  Searing pain doubles him over and he tries to turn and attack, but the Oni slashes him across the chest and knocks him to the floor.  
Wincing and struggling to sit up, he turns around to find the Oni gone.  As the dark smoke dissipates, he pulls his hand from his chest and watches as dark blood drips from his fingers.

* * *

The nogitsune paces around them, circling the group like a predator choosing its target.

"Do you know the ritual of seppuku, Stiles?" The word sounds familiar, definitely Japanese, but Stiles doesn't know it.

"No, and I don't want to."

The demons are entirely too close, and Stiles knows something's got to give.  He wants to protect all of them, but Kira and Scott are armed where he and Lydia are not.  As the monster steps closer, Stiles pushes himself between it and Lydia.  He grasps her waist and angles his body so any blow that comes their way will hit him first.

"When a samurai disembowels himself, with his own sword, to reclaim his honor, but that's not the cut that kills him..."

Lydia has a hold of Stiles' shoulder now, plastering herself to his side as they both watch the nogitsune in anticipation of the worst.

"The killing stroke is made by his kaishakunin, who beheads the samurai with his own katana." The nogitsune turns from Stiles and points at Scott. "Scott, Scott is your kaishakunin."

Scott shakes his head minutely, looking around and avoiding everyone's eyes.

"I'm going to make your best friend kill you, Stiles...and you're going to let him." Stiles glances at his Scott, never turning away from the monster.  The wolf looks speechless and terrified.  The nogitsune takes huge, lumbering steps.  It comes so close that Stiles wants to swing at it to make it back off. "Because just like you, they're all going to die.

Everyone touched by an Oni's blade, unless..." Everyone stumbles backwards, no one running, but no one knowing how to proceed.  The nogitsune raises a dirty, cloth wrapped finger and points it right in front of Stiles' face. "...Scott kills you first."

He can see the vapor of Scott's breath as his friend pants hard.  Stiles is fed up with the monster's nonsense; the way it uses riddles and metaphors to twist their perceptions.  He leans forward, stepping close to the nogitsune and challenging it, anger now outweighing his fear.

"Why, why are you doing this?"

"To win the game."

The nogitsune steps back and the Oni go on the offensive.  Within seconds, Scott has wolfed-out and Kira squares up, raising her sword.  The battle has begun.

* * *

John's breathing has become labored, every inhale a struggle.  Glancing across the room, he sees his deputies struggling as well.  Parrish's eyes are closed and the Sheriff worries that he's given up.

"Parrish, keep your eyes open." He gets no response. "DEPUTY!"

Parrish jumps, startled awake.  The younger man lifts his shirttail up again, watching as black smoke hisses from his bleeding wound.

"What is this, this is poison?"

"Whatever it is..." John grits his teeth hard against a fresh wave of pain. "It's working fast."

The burning in his arm is shooting up his shoulder, and it seems to be working it's way to his chest.  It feels like a heart attack is supposed to.  How fitting, that the monsters would go after his heart...

* * *

Melissa is laying on a gurney, feeling the world slow down around her.  Rafe clutches her hand and she's shocked by how warm he feels, then realizes it's actually that she's cold.  She can't raise her voice above a whisper, but she needs to make sure he listens.  He's breathing almost as hard as she is, and she wants to tell him to calm down, but what's the point?

"Don't leave him again...promise me." She focuses her gaze on him, the cold sweat on her face making her shiver.

"You told me to leave."

"I told a drunk to get out of the house..." It feels like she just ran a marathon with no water breaks.  Her lungs flutter helplessly as she tries to draw air into her parched throat. "I didn't tell his father to get out of his life."

She wonders if this is how Scott used to feel before the change, when his lungs would seize up and he struggled to breathe.  All of her years in medicine, all of the injuries she's seen, nothing prepared her for how scary it feels when you're dying.  That train of thought isn't encouraging, so she focuses back on Rafe.

"You came back to make it up to him, right?"

"I came back to make it up to both of you."

There it is, he finally said it.  All of his bravado and self-importance, attacking John and trying to kick him out, the ruthless way he pursued the murders.  Everything was an act, and a bad one.  He's never gotten past that day all those years ago, and he'd made a complete asshole of himself instead of simply talking to his kid.  Melissa hopes she lives through this because Rafe is going to get a serious ass-kicking when this is all over with.

* * *

The fight is insane.  Stiles can't keep up with Kira and Scott as they spin, slash, and dodge.  All he can do is keep a hold on Lydia and stay as far back from the weapons as possible.  Scott and Kira slide together, standing back-to-back.

"How is this happening, how are we in this place?!" Scott's frustration is clear even in his werewolf features.

"You're asking me? A month ago, I'd never even touched a sword!"

They separate and begin the onslaught again.  Stiles is at a loss, sinking down to the ground with Lydia joining him.  The snow is surely freezing, but he doesn't even notice it.  His mind is racing; trying to find a way to stop this, to gain the upper hand.  Scott and Kira can't keep this up endlessly.

* * *

Derek and the twins are locked in combat with the Oni.  Every time they seem to gain ground, the demons just come at them harder.

"Where the hell are they?!" Aiden shouts, kicking the legs out from under the Oni he's fighting.

"The Jeep's here, they have to be somewhere!" His brother Ethan throws another demon to the ground, looking up at Derek.

Derek punches one across the face, sending it backwards down the stairs.

"In the school!"

There's no time to get to them.  Keeping the Oni at bay is proving more difficult than anticipated.  It's only after he answers Aiden that Derek realizes the nogitsune has snuck away.

* * *

Scott and Kira are spinning and spinning and spinning.  Stiles gets dizzy watching them block and attack, and shift around to do it again.  The fight is so evenly matched that it never moves past the center of the garden.  The nogitsune prowls just at the edge, poised to defend itself, but not making any move to engage them.  The sheen of Kira's sword reflects the snow and Scott's claws make sickening crunches as they crash into the Onis' armor.

"This can't be real..." Lydia's eyes are green globes, her terror unmistakable.  Stiles has no words to comfort her.  All he can do is watch the war dance.

"Yeah, tell that to them."

* * *

Derek's Oni hits him hard in the chest and he slips, falling to the stairs under him.  He reaches up with one clawed hand and holds the demon as far as possible from his body.  This is going nowhere, and they need to do something.  The monster has escaped and they're still fighting the underlings.

"You have to get them the box, someone get them the box!" he shouts, pleading with the twins.

Aiden turns and stares down the tunnel, where Derek set the triskele box before the fight.  It's entirely too vulnerable, and Derek can't believe that neither the nogitsune nor the Oni have grabbed it yet.  As soon as Aiden leans his body to go for it, two Oni materialize to guard it.  The youth bares his teeth and huffs loudly.

"I hate ninjas," he snarls and attacks the demons.

* * *

The stalemate continues until it abruptly stops.  Kira crosses blades with an Oni who gets the upper hand and knocks her katana away, and it clatters into the snow.  She steps back as it points its sword at her throat.  Another demon joins in and they come after Kira, backing her up against the footbridge.  She looks around in panic, trying to find a way out.  Stiles' heart catches in his throat, fearing that this is the end.

* * *

Rafe's been sitting with Melissa for what feels like hours.  It's likely been only minutes.  She hasn't made a sound in a long time, and he looks up at her face to check on her.  Her eyes are shut and her face is so pale, but her lips are red.  Too red; blood red.  She has blood dripping from her mouth.  He clenches her hand tight as he stands and darts his head back and forth, looking for someone who can help.  A nurse runs by them, his turquoise scrubs fluttering as he races down the hall.

"Hey...hey, there's blood on her lips. What does that mean?"

The man continues running until he turns at the end of the hall and holds a hand up, acknowledging them, but not stopping.  What is that supposed to mean?  He can't believe it.  This is a hospital, shouldn't they notice one of their nurses is missing?!

"There's blood, what does it mean?!"

His shouts get him nowhere.  A doctor in a white coat runs the opposite direction down the intersecting hall.  As he glances around again, he sees the blood still staining the walls.  They must be attending to the other people; all of the ones that those things attacked.  Maybe they think Melissa's doing the same thing they are, maybe they don't even know she's here.  Whatever the case, they're out of time.

* * *

Kira has nowhere to go and Scott can't help her, since he's fending off his own group of enemies.  Stiles looks down at Kira's sword laying in the snow, and it all becomes very simple.  The nogitsune already told him how to end this.  All he has to do is grab that weapon and plunge it into his body; he just has to die.  It sounds so appealing.  There will be pain of course, massive pain, but only briefly.  What's pain to him now?  Stiles has been in pain for months...actually, it's more like years.  All he's ever done has lead to his.  His dad doesn't know what to do with a _hyperactive little bastard like him_.  He'd told Stiles so...or was that just in his head?  It's all so fuzzy now...and he can't tell.  The Sheriff would be better off without him regardless.  All he's done is make his father's life a living hell, and almost gotten him killed.  His dad never wanted to know about the supernatural, and now he can't escape it.  Stiles can't save anyone, not really.  He couldn't save Erica or Boyd or Allison.  He couldn't save his mom.  All he does is make things worse. He gets in the way and everyone has to save his pathetic ass.  Look at where they are now.  This monster didn't possess Scott or Allison or Kira or Derek.  The nogitsune came after him because it knew he couldn't defeat it; knew he was too weak.  The fox dug a hole inside of him and went searching for power, but found nothing.  There's no power in him at all.  What he can do is stop this from going any further.  All he has to do is die, and that's the easiest thing in the world isn't it?

He breaks away from Lydia and scrambles forward on his hands and knees, grabbing the katana and standing up.  Scott is distracted by the Oni and Stiles wants to get this over with before his friend sees what he's doing.  He grabs the sword with both hands and angles it down, setting the point against the skin over his intestines.  The nogitsune cocks its head, making a gruff noise that sounds like interest.  Lydia hovers next to him; frozen.  She can't seem to decide if reaching for the blade will stop him or only expedite the process.  Unfortunately, Scott notices.

"Stiles no!" His burning red eyes look vicious and primal, but Stiles can see past them.  Underneath the fur and the fangs is his best friend, his brother; Scotty.

"What if it saves you?" Stiles flicks his eyes between Scott and the sword in his hands. "What if it saves all of you?"

"What if it's just another trick?!" Lydia's voice is reedy and strained.

"No more tricks, Lydia." Stiles looks at the monster, its words are all the confirmation he needs. "End it Scott, let your friend fall on his own sword. Do for him what he cannot do for himself."

Stiles' hands shake.  He's ready, he is, but what if it doesn't work?  What if he runs himself through and the nogitsune slaughters them all anyway?  The nogitsune's voice has less growl to it now, slipping into a lilt of surety.

"Do it Scott, be his kaishakunin."

Scott stares at the blade poised over Stiles' gut, pleading with his eyes.  His arms are held away from him, claws still out, but he won't move.  Stiles doesn't want to hurt him or the girls, but he can't stop now.  What else can he do?  The monster's already won.

"Give up the game."

The nogitsune snarls and inclines its head to Scott, who continues to stand between Stiles and the demons.  The look on his face makes Stiles' chest ache.  Scott just wants to protect him.  It's wrong for Stiles to rob him of that, but he won't let any more people take the fall for him.  Scott has the rest of the pack to lead.  They need him, they don't need Stiles.  It will hurt, it may even ruin them for a while, but they'll get past it.  They're stronger than he is.

The blade quivers as Stiles shakes harder and harder.  This is pathetic.  He made up his mind to do this and now he's too cowardly to go through with it.  Staring down at the gleam of the metal, something catches his eye.  There's something off in the reflection that the sword casts.  Is that a desk?  Stiles turns his head and looks behind him.  There's a textbook laying in the snow, and behind it a desk collects fresh powder.

"You have...no moves left."

It's like someone yanked a hood off of his head, and now Stiles can see.  He lowers the katana and holds it horizontal to his body.  Lydia takes a shaky breath and Scott narrows his eyes.  Everyone seems to hold their breath.

"I do." Stiles turns to Kira and tosses her the sword. "A divine move."

The nogitsune's demeanor changes radically, and it growls in anger.

* * *

Aiden is struggling with the Oni.  For every move he makes to push them away, they move in again even stronger.  Derek can smell blood on him and he's panting hard.

"We can't do this, we can't beat them!"

Ethan claws at another Oni, but it dodges his strikes and slices his shoulder open.  He hisses in pain and presses his fingers to the wound.

"Take the box, we'll hold them off!"

Derek comes running and grabs the Oni as it moves towards Ethan, flipping it over and sending it careening down the stairs.  It jumps back to its feet and swings its katana through the air, daring Derek to come after it.  The beta snarls viciously, staring the demon down.  Before either of them can attack, something hits the Oni in the chest and bright yellow light bursts forth.  The older wolf turns and sees Chris Argent standing on the ridge above the staircase, a crossbow in his hands.  The demon seems stunned and reaches to pull the arrow out, exploding into light and shadow as it's destroyed.  Isaac flips from the top of the ridge, landing in a crouch on the ground below.

"What was that?" Ethan sounds winded.

"Silver," Chris says, determined and angry.  Derek gets it.  The Oni killed Allison, and Chris has found out how to kill _them_.  Derek realizes this is their one and only opportunity.

"Isaac, the box! Get the triskele box to Scott!"

The young beta dashes forward, snatching the box from the ground and running to the school.

* * *

"Stop fighting them, it's an illusion!"

Lydia has grabbed a hold of Stiles with both arms this time, doing everything she can to hold him still.  His arm goes around her shoulders, but he doesn't back down.  She must think he's lost it.  Just a minute ago he was going to shove a Japanese sword through his bowels, so it'd be hard to convince them of his sanity now.  He puts every ounce of conviction into his voice that he has left.  They have to believe him.

"You have to stop fighting them. It looks real and it feels real, but Scott you gotta trust me, it's an illusion."

Scott turns away slowly, watching the nogitsune.  The monster hisses and stands its ground, the Oni forming ranks in front of it.  Stiles sags against Lydia's side.  It's getting hard to even talk now, he's almost spent.  The young wolf begins making his way toward the fox, Kira following him and Lydia guiding Stiles at the rear of the line.  The Oni raise their swords and the air is filled with the sound of metallic clatter as the group of demons attacks mercilessly.  Scott is the first to be hit, shouting in pain as a sword slices his abdomen.  Then Kira is struck across the back, and the cuts continue.  A shudder runs down Stiles' spine every time the swords make contact, hearing his friends cry out in agony, but he presses forward.  Scott and Kira are so brave, forcing the demons back as they are shredded by imaginary blades.  The pain is not so imaginary, Stiles thinks.   
It feels like they'll never make it to the end, but then Scott is in front of the monster and it snarls in his face.  He growls and shoves the nogitsune backwards, pushing it against the door and through to the other side.  They stumble to a halt, confused by what they see.  They're in the school now, standing in a hallway lined with lockers.  No one is pursuing them; they're alone. 

Scott and Kira look down, pulling their jackets away to check their bodies.  Neither of them bears a single wound, and there's no blood to be seen.

"We're okay..." Scott sounds both relieved and completely dumbfounded. "We're..."

He never finishes the sentence as he goes flying into a bank of lockers.  Kira spins around and faces the real nogitsune, the one who looks like Stiles.  She raises her sword, but he smirks and knocks her away easily.  Watching it is terrifying.  Stiles still doesn't trust his own eyes.  Is that really the monster or is it him?  The nogitsune really is a shadow.  Those are his eyes, but they're dark and menacing.  It's his body, but it has none of the awkwardness or clumsy limbs.  It's a mockery of Stiles, an abomination.  This is Stiles stripped down to basic concepts; malice and cruelty and fury.  This has gone on long enough and as frightened as he is, he's going to stop.  This time he won't run.

"This was my game." The nogitsune turns to Stiles and Lydia. "Think you can beat me at my game?"

The monster looks furious.  Stiles feels Lydia grip his shirt tightly as the nogitsune sizes them up.

* * *

The wolves drive the Oni towards Chris, holding them as still as they can while he takes aim.  Derek singles one out and yanks its arm behind its back, leaving the demon's chest wide open for the arrow to find its mark.  Chris fires and the demon bursts into light and smoke.  Another shot sails through the air, but the last Oni is prepared and strikes it down, cleaving the shaft in half.

"Get the arrow, it's the last one!"

Aiden runs to grab the end with the arrowhead, sliding under the demon's sword and managing to snatch the weapon from the ground.  He stands and stabs the arrow through the Oni's chest and it shatters into nothingness.  Too late, he realizes his mistake.

"AIDEN!" Ethan cries his brother's name, watching as his twin pulls the black sword from his chest.  Derek hurries down the steps to get to the boys, smelling the horrible poisoned blood in the air.  The sword clatters to the ground as Aiden stumbles, his eyes flickering blue.

* * *

"Divine move? Divine move? You think you have any moves at all?"

Lydia gasps violently, backpedaling as fast as she can without losing her grip on Stiles.  The nogitsune terrifies and confuses her, disabling her ability to think clearly.  The rational part of her knows that Stiles is beside her, clutched tightly in her arms, but doubt still lingers.  There's a tiny, persistent part of her mind that fears him; fears her friend.  It tells her to drop Stiles and run, that this is all a trick and she's going to die.  The disgust she feels when she realizes it is what ultimately saves her; hardens her heart and steels her limbs.  Lydia can hear Stiles struggling.  His breaths are labored and he's starting to shake.  She thinks he's about to have a panic attack.

"You can kill the Oni, but me, me?" The nogitsune has given up all attempts at composure.  He's livid and wants them to know it, advancing as fast as his (Stiles)' legs will carry him without actually running. "I'm a thousand years old!  YOU CAN'T KILL ME!"

"But we can change you!" Lydia is proud that her voice doesn't waiver.  The surge of energy she had is coming back to her, the need to stop the death that looms over them.  She won't let this thing kill any more of her friends.  Allison didn't deserve to die, no one did, and she uses that anger to give fire to her voice.  For the first time in days, she feels strong.

"What?" The nogitsune seems genuinely confused, and Lydia's heart might actually burst from her chest for how excited she is.  Stiles stands taller beside her, taking a deep breath before he reveals their trump card.

"You forgot about the scroll."

"The Shugendo scroll." Lydia feels her lips turn up into a smirk.  She never thought in her wildest dreams that that would ever happen.

The nogitsune's conviction fades and he looks fearful.

"Change the host..." his voice is a whisper.

"You can't be a fox _and_ a wolf." Lydia hears all of Stiles anger come out in one sentence.  This is the end, and he knows it.

Scott springs up out of nowhere and grabs the nogitsune's arm, biting down and hanging on.  The fox screams and Scott releases him.  Stumbling away, the nogitsune steps right in front of Kira, who plunges her sword through his chest.  He goes limp and the lights flicker as thunder rumbles overhead.  Kira yanks the sword out and the monster sinks to his knees, convulsing violently until he opens his mouth and a fly buzzes out.  It zooms away down the hall, trying desperately to escape, but it doesn't get far.  Isaac jumps in front of it and catches the insect in the triskele box, snapping the lid shut and locking it in place.  He looks at them expectantly, waiting for confirmation that he's done it.

The nogitsune's empty body thrashes and sputters before going eerily still.  There's a sound like pottery breaking, as the vessel stiffens and cracks.  The nogitsune!Stiles falls to the floor and crumbles on impact, turning to dust and fading away.  Everyone stares in awe, no one believing that it's over.

* * *

In the hospital, Melissa suddenly shoots upright, gasping.  Rafe looks stunned.  She reaches down and yanks away the bloody dressing on her thigh, revealing the same deep gash, but no black smoke.  He leg is badly cut, but it's a normal wound; no poison.  The color starts to come back to her skin and she breathes deeply, feeling her chest rise and fall in a normal rhythm.  She's never been so happy to see her ex-husband, and she leans her head against him as she tries to process all that's just happened.

* * *

At the clinic, Deaton pulls his hand away from his chest and finds only normal; red blood.  He's extremely shaken, but so relieved to have lived.  Dropping his head back against the exam table's legs, he focuses on slowing his breathing.  Soon, he'll have to clean up.  There will still be animals who need a vet, and supernatural kids who need a healer.  Everything will need to be disinfected again, and he doesn't look forward to the amount of energy it'll take to heal these wounds, but that will all come later.  Right now, he's just happy to feel his heart beating strong in his chest.

* * *

Parrish yanks the Sheriff to his feet.  Their energy seems to have come back as quickly as it left them.  They look around the station; at the broken glass and the blood.  It's a mess, and they'll have a lot of trouble covering this one up, but hell at least they're still around to do it.  John checks his wound and sees that the poisonous blackness has disappeared.  _What the hell just happened?_   He's never going to get used to this magical crap.

* * *

_It's over.  Holy shit, it's over._   Scott's since shifted back, and he stands next to Kira as everyone stares down at the spot where the nogitsune used to be.  They all seem to be holding their breath, as if letting it out will release the monster again.  Scott's eyes travel up to look at Stiles and Lydia.  He hasn't seen her look so dazed in all the time he's known her.  Seeing Lydia Martin shocked, well it's quite a feat.  He's about to shout victory and snatch his brother up in the tightest hug imaginable, but then Scott sees Stiles sway.  His eyes roll back in his head and Lydia notices too late to stop him.  Stiles falls and lands hard on the floor, his eyes closed and his body limp.  They all rush toward him and Scott grabs his head, checking for bleeding or broken bones.  He rips his jacket off and pillows Stiles' head on top of it, pressing his fingers to his friend's neck to check his pulse.  It's slow, but it's there.  If they came this far just to have Stiles crack his skull open on the floor, Scott will put his fist through every wall from here to the lacrosse field.  Lydia and Kira crouch at Stiles' sides, gently shaking him.  Isaac paces on the fringes, ever the odd-one-out.  Scott wants his beta to feel accepted, that it's okay for him to be concerned; to come closer.  The sandy-haired wolf clutches the triskele box tightly, never taking his hand off the lid as if the fly might escape.  Nothing rouses Stiles, and they have to accept that all they can do is wait.

It feels like an eternity before Stiles opens his eyes.  He looks around groggily, seeming confused about why he's on the floor.  Lydia grips his shirt tightly and drops her head in relief, her hair draping her face. 

"Oh god, I fainted didn't I?"

Kira chuckles, her relief plain as her heartbeat steadies.  Isaac manages a small smile and Scott can tell that's he's happy that Stiles is okay.  Scott looks down at Stiles and smiles so wide he thinks his jaw might break.  His breath shutters out of him as he feels the warmth of happiness flood his chest.

"We're alive. We're all alive."

That's when Scott's smile waivers.  It feels wrong to correct Stiles now, but it's not really the truth.  _They're_ all alive, but...Allison's not.  Stiles shuts his mouth tightly, his heartbeat tripping as he holds in the tears in his eyes.  Scott senses movement and watches as Lydia slowly stands, her posture cautious.  She stiffens and cold dread soaks into her scent.  Stiles lifts his head to look her way.  Fear pours over them like ice water.

* * *

Chris gently leads Ethan over to where Derek sits with his brother; holding the struggling wolf upright.  Ethan falls to his knees beside Aiden and rubs a hand up and down his back.

"Does it hurt you as much as it hurts me?" Ethan's face crumples with grief and he shudders.

"Yeah."

Ethan leans close to his twin, heaving loud, painful breaths as he starts to cry.

"Okay." Aiden shuts his eyes briefly, seeming to accept his fate now that his brother confirms it.

Derek looks scared and helpless, watching the disgusting ooze pour from Aiden's mouth.  Chris turns away.  He doesn't want to watch this.  He didn't want any more kids to die.  Even these two, who caused so much trouble for the pack...they're still just children.  Destructive, rash, and confused...but still children.

"Lydia never believed I was one of the good guy's anyway," Aiden says it like a joke as he chokes on black blood.  Ethan laughs humorlessly, closing his eyes as fresh tears spill over. 

Derek's eyes flicker between the two boys, as if he's struggling to say something to comfort them.

"She'll believe _me_."

Aiden's eyes slide shut as he grits his teeth in pain, and his brother presses his head to his twin's temple.  Ethan shushes him quietly, rocking a bit and trying to soothe him.  Chris sees the boy's body still and knows it's over when Ethan slides his body to the ground gently, collapsing over his brother's chest.  He no longer holds back, his chest heaving with sobs that sound like they shatter his lungs.  Chris hears the clang of the school doors opening and turns his head to look at the entrance.  Lydia comes running out, Stiles following in her wake.  Her mouth drops open and she spins on her heel, crushing herself to Stiles' chest and clutching at his shirt.  Stiles holds her tightly, his hand in her hair as he looks down at the wolves in horror.  Chris is amazed to see Stiles walking on his own, and he realizes they must have defeated the nogitsune.  Derek stands and watches the twins, his eyes bright and sorrowful.  Scott, Kira, and Isaac join Stiles and Lydia on the landing, staring down at the twins.  They've won, haven't they?  It doesn't feel like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good god, get this chapter away from me and never let me see it again. This took SO long to finish. "The Divine Move" is a /heavy/ episode, and it took everything I had to write even this much. I apologize a thousand times over for how long you had to wait for this chapter. I decided to split the events in two and focus on the aftermath of the final battle in the NEXT chapter. 
> 
> I edited this A LOT, but there is always the chance for errors, so kindly leave me a comment if I've gotten a fact wrong. I hope this meets your expectations, and I hope you will stay for more. I will cover Allison's funeral and Aiden's, Chris and Isaac leaving, Stiles' trauma, Malia's whereabouts, and Kate's attack on Derek all in the next chapter. Then we can FINALLY move on to new material. THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH ME!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a major work in progress. I don't have any definitive schedule set down for updates yet, so please bear with me. This will be my first Ao3 fic ever.


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